THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 ANNALS OF THE POOR 
 
 « THE dairyman's DAUGHTER ;" " THE YOUNG 
 COTTAGER ;" THE NEGRO SERVANT," ETC. 
 
 BY LEGH RICHMOND, A.M. 
 
 A NEW EDITION, ENLARGED, WITH AN INTRODUCTORY 
 SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR, 
 
 BY JOHN AYRE, A.M. 
 
 DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN TO THE EARL OF RODEN. 
 
 " Thou, O God, hast prepared of thy goodness for the Poor." 
 
 P#a/m Ixviii., 10. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS 
 
 No. 285 BROADWAY. 
 
 1850.
 
 
 u^ 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Page. 
 
 Introduction 7 
 
 The Dairyman's Daughter .... 19 
 
 The Negro Servant .... 123 
 
 The Young Cottager .... 157 
 
 The Cottage Conversation . , 227 
 
 A Visit to the Infirmary . * 233 
 
 .'v?cii)21)
 
 WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ. 
 
 THIS LITTLE WORK 
 
 DESIGNED TO BEAR A TESTIMONY, DRAWN FROM REAL 
 FACTS AND OCCURRENCES, 
 
 TO THE 
 
 INFINITE VALUE OF CHRISTIAN TRUTH, 
 
 When received in the Heart and exemplified in the Conduct, 
 IS DEDICATED, 
 
 A.S A TOKEN OF GRATEFUL AND AFFECTIONATE REGARD, \VHI4« 
 
 THK AUTHOR ENTERTAINS TOWARDS A CHARACTER 
 
 SO LONG AND JUSTLY APPROVED, 
 
 AS 
 
 THE FAITHFUL MONITOR OF THE RICH, THE TRIET> 
 
 FRIEND OF THE POOR, THE UNWEARIED 
 
 SUPPORTER OF RELIGION, AND THE 
 
 ACKNOWLEDGED BENEFACTOR 
 
 OF MANKIND.
 
 JjCt not Ambition raock their useful toll. 
 Their homely joys, and destiny obsc ore : 
 
 Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 
 The short but simple annals of the poor. 
 Grat
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It has been thought that an enlarged edition of the 
 "Annals of the Poor" might not be unacceptable to 
 the public, and that a brief sketch of the Author's life 
 might with advantage be appended. It has fallen to my 
 lot to superintend such a publication. 
 
 The " Dairyman's Daughter" is enlarged with a num- 
 ber of letters, &.C., written by herself to her relatives. 
 The originals of these have been preserved in the Author's 
 possession. There are also added two letters addressed 
 to her by the Author. I have judged it expedient rot to 
 interrupt the course of the narrative, and have therefore 
 thrown together the additional matter in the form of an 
 appendix. 
 
 The '* Young Cottager" and the " Negro Servant" are 
 reprinted, without alteration, from the last edition. 
 
 Two little pieces from Mr. Richmond's pen, inserted in 
 the first volume of the Christian Guardian, now for the 
 first time accompany his larger tracts. They are entitled 
 "The Cottage Conversation," and "AV:sit to the In- 
 firmary."
 
 8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 I have a melancholy satisfaction in s-ketching the life of 
 my lamented father-in-law, and I willingly embrace the 
 opportunity of aflfectiouately paying a public tribute to the 
 memory of one so valued and beloved. I purposely refrain 
 from intruding into the province of the biographer. My 
 aim is only to catch two or three more prominent features 
 of his character, introducing just so much of narration as 
 may serve to render my observations intelligible. 
 
 Legh Richmond was born at Liverpool, Jan. 29, 1772. 
 He was the eldest child of Dr. Henry Richmond, the de- 
 scendant of an ancient and honorable family. A remark- 
 able casualty befell him in his childhood, from the effects of 
 which he never recovered. At a very early age, in leaping 
 from a wall, he contracted an injury in his left leg, which 
 issued in incurable lameness. It is somewhat singular that 
 an accident nearly similar occurred to a younger brother, and 
 also to his second son. Each of them, in infancy, fell from 
 an open window. The former was killed, and the latter 
 was ever after afflicted in the same limb with the same 
 kind of lameness as his father. 
 
 After a private preparatory education, Legh Richmond 
 was admitted a member of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 While an under-graduate, he pursued his studies with a 
 talent and a zeal which gave fair promise that the highest 
 honors of his year were not beyond his reach. These 
 hopes were however blighted by a severe illness, which 
 was partly owing to his anxious and unremitted applica- 
 tion. Precluded, by this cause, from engaging in the 
 honorable contention of the senate-house, he received what 
 is academically termed an sBgrotat degree : commencing 
 B. A. in 1794 : and with some intermissions he resided in 
 the university three years longer.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 We are now to view Mr. Richmond in a totally different 
 character. In the summer of 1797, he became, within the 
 space of a very weeks, (to borrow his own words,) " aca- 
 demically a master of arts, domestically a husband, pa- 
 rochially a deacon." He had been originally destined to 
 the law ; but having imbibed a distaste for that profession, 
 his attention was subsequently directed to the church, and 
 he was now admitted to the sacred office. Brading, a 
 secluded village in the Isle of Wight, was the scene of 
 his earliest pastoral labors. He was ordained to the curacy 
 of this place and the little adjoining village of Yaverland : 
 and in Yaverland church he delivered his first sermon. 
 
 These scenes will long be dear to Christian remembrance. 
 Lovely in themselves, and consecrated by the pen of Legh 
 Richmond, they will be viewed with no ordinary feelings : 
 and he who disdains not the " simple annals of the poor," 
 while he treads the sod which covers "little Jane," or 
 visits the lowly cottage of the " Dairyman," will not fail 
 to glorify God for those who here have slept in Jesus, and 
 "though dead, yet speak." 
 
 At the time of his ordination, Mr. Richmond saw little 
 of the magnitude of that work in which he was engaging. 
 As yet, he was himself but little acquainted with the 
 things of God, and was therefore little qualified to become 
 the spiritual instructor o£_others. His habits of life were 
 decorous and exemplary, his pulpit compositions interest- 
 ing and moral, but as yet he was little imbued with the 
 spirit of vital godliness. This man, however, (may it not 
 be said?) was "a chosen vessel to the Lord." Ere many 
 months elapsed, a complete revolution was effected in his 
 religious sentiments. This is, under God, mainly to be 
 ascribed to the perusal of Mr. Wilberforce's "Practical
 
 10 INTRODrCTION. 
 
 7iew of Christianity." He now, with enlightened under- 
 standing and decisive zeal, set himself to " do the wort 
 of an evangelist." Not only was he in the pulpit, instant 
 in "preaching the word," but he was also to be found with 
 his pastoral admonitions in the dwellings of his flock, and 
 could descend, with sweet and winning gentleness, to 
 " feed his lambs." The fruit of his labors was speedily 
 apparent. " Little Jane" was the first flower which bloom- 
 ed from the good seed he was sowing. 
 
 The circumstances attendant upon his intercourse with 
 the subjects of the Annals will be found narrated in the 
 several tracts. I only observe in this place, that " little 
 Jane" died January 30, 1799, in her fifteenth year ; that 
 the conversations with the " Negro Servant" were held 
 during the summer of 1S03, and that the death of the 
 " Dairyman's Daughter" took place May 30, 1801 : her 
 age was thirty-one. 
 
 After a residence of about seven years in the Isle of 
 Wight, where hie labors had been evidently and largely 
 blessed, Mr. Richmond removed to London. He was here 
 to take a share in the duties of the Lock chapel. The 
 very first sermon he delivered from the pulpit of this place 
 was, there is every reason to believe, under God's bless- 
 ing, the instrumental means *of effecting a saving change 
 in the heart of, at least, one indijjidual. 
 
 Scarcely, however, was he well settled in this new 
 scene, when the good providence of God removed him to 
 the rectory of Turvey, Bedfordshire. He was presented 
 to this living by Miss Fuller, in 1805. 
 
 Long will the n-ame of Richmond be venerated at Tur- 
 vey ; long will the savor of his affectionate ministrations 
 abide in the hearts of his mourning flock. A singular
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 11 
 
 blessing still attended him. From the earliest to literally 
 the latest, his preaching was visibly " in demonstration of 
 the Spirit and of power." 
 
 It was during his residence at Turvey, that most of Mr. 
 Richmond's publications were undertaken. He had pre- 
 viously printed two or three single sermons ;* but it was 
 at Turvey that his great work, " The Fathers of the Eng- 
 lish Church," was carried on. For the superintendence 
 of this important undertaking he was eminently qualified. 
 Accident, or I would rather say, a remarkable providence, 
 had, in the first instance, introduced him, while in the Isle 
 of Wight, to the writings of our earlier and greatest theo- 
 logians ; and the study of them he had ever since zeal- 
 ously prosecuted. To a familiar acquaintance with the 
 works of these divines, Mr. Richmond united the greatest 
 impartiality and judgment in forming his selections. His 
 work therefore presents, in a comparatively small com- 
 pass, a large proportion of the most valuable of the re- 
 mains of our martyrs and confessors. It is not perhaps 
 too much to say, that it has been mainly instrumental in 
 awakening to the reformers that attention and interest 
 with which they are now increasingly regarded. 
 
 It was during his residence at Turvey also that Mr. 
 Richmond drew up the narratives which are contained in 
 the present volume. They were originally (in substance) 
 inserted in the earlier numbers of the Christian Guardian. 
 Having here attracted considerable attention, they were 
 then published in the form of separate tracts, and after- 
 
 * These were, a Fast-day Sermon, and one On the Close of the Year, 
 preached at Brading ; and a Sermon on Cruelty to the Brute Creation, deliv^ 
 ered at Bath.
 
 12 INTRODUCTIOX. 
 
 ward, with considerable augmentations, in the first edition 
 of this volume. 
 
 It may appear perhaps unnecessary to pronounce an 
 opinion on productions which have been circulated by 
 millions, and translated into twenty languages ; and which, 
 in a multitude of well-authenticated instances, have been, 
 by the blessing of God, signally effective of good. I can- 
 not, however, forbear to say, that in Legh Richmond's 
 writings, more than in those of perhaps any other author, 
 you behold the character of the man. His beautiful sim- 
 plicity, his lively imagination, his tenderness of feeling, 
 his devoted piety, were the characteristics of the man 
 which enshrined him in the affections of all who knew 
 him. And who can read a page of his Annals, and not re- 
 cognise in those interesting narratives, the same simple 
 plainness, the same glowing fancy, the same touching pa- 
 thos, the same ardent piety 1 In sketching his villagers, 
 he has unconsciously delineated himself. He admits us to 
 his retirement and meditations, shows us his hopes and 
 fears, and presents us with all the secret workings of his 
 Boul. We admire the gifted minister of God, who, in 
 the deep humility of his spirit, disdained not to listen to 
 the voice of admonition, though it reached him from the 
 lowly cottage ; we cannot withhold our affection from 
 the man. 
 
 If I were called on to say which of the narratives I pre- 
 fer, I should, most probably, be inclined to fix on that of 
 the " Young Cottager." There is something, in my judg- 
 ment, irresistibly engaging in the character and history of 
 that simple girl. I can venerate the high and exalted piety 
 of the "Dairyman's Daughter," who, with a masculine 
 strength of understanding, had ever her word of counsel
 
 INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 even for the minister: but I love the little, backward, 
 neglected, retiring child, who starts forth at once in all the 
 moral beauty of Christian attainment. There is something 
 too in the condition of Jane, which seems especially to call 
 for our sympathy. The Dairyman's Daughter was con- 
 stantly surrounned by a circle of affectionate relatives, 
 who regarded her with reverence and love ; while Jane's 
 religion was, at best, little appreciated, often despised and 
 ridiculed by her family, and her last hours were disturbed 
 by sounds of blasphemy, proceeding from a parent. Many 
 of the incidents also of this tale might be appealed to as 
 conferring upon it a peculiar interest. The scene, for ex- 
 ample, where Mr. Richmond, on his first visit to her, while 
 speaking of the good news of the Gospel, inquires, " Who 
 brings this good news]" and is answered, " Sir, you brought 
 it to me ;" I know not who can read unmoved. Her part- 
 ing benediction too — " God bless and reward you !" — when 
 with an unexpected exertion she threw her arms around 
 him and expired — is iaexpressibly affecting. 
 
 I close what I have to say on the subject of these tracts, 
 by adding, that a few years ago, two grave-stones were 
 erected in the churchyards of Arreton and Brading respec- 
 tively, to the memory of the " Dairyman's Daughter," and 
 the " Young Cottager." 
 
 On the former are inscribed the following lines, the 
 composition of a lady. 
 
 •' Stranger ! if e'er by chance or feeling led, 
 Upon this hallowed turf thy footsteps tread, 
 Turn from the contemplation of the sod, 
 And thmk on her whose spirit rests with God 
 Lowly her lot on earth,— but He who bore 
 •ndinga of grace and blessings to the poor, 
 
 2
 
 14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Gave her, his truth and faithfulness to prove, 
 The choicest treasures of his boundless love : 
 Faith, tliat dispell'd affliction's darkest gloom; 
 Hope, that could cheer the passage to the tomb; 
 Peace, that not Hell's dark legion could destroy ; 
 And love, that fill'd the soul with heavenly joy. 
 Death of its sting disarm'd, she knew no fear, 
 But tasted heaven, e'en while she linger'd here. 
 Oh ! happy saint I — may we like thee be blest ; 
 In life be faithful, and in death find rest !" 
 
 The following epitaph is from Mr. Richmond's pen. 
 
 " Ye who delight the power of God to trace, 
 And mark with joy each monument of grace, 
 Tread lightly o'er this grave, as you explore 
 ' The short and simple annals of the poor.' 
 
 < A child reposes underneath this sod, 
 A child to memory dear, and dear to God: 
 Rejoice, yet shed the sympathetic tear, 
 Jane, ' the Young Cottager,' lies buried here." 
 
 During his residence at Turvey, Mr. Richmond became 
 extendedly known to the public as the cordial friend, and 
 real advocate of the different religious societies, which 
 have within the last thirty years grown up among us. His 
 persuasive and pathetic eloquence in the pulpit or on the 
 platform, when awaking Christian sympathy in behalf of 
 the idolatrous Gentile, or the unbelieving Jew, will not be 
 readily forgotten by the multitudes who have, so often, 
 delighted and instructed, hung upon his lips. I believe 
 his earliest appearance in this character, was on the ninth 
 anniversary of the Church Missionary Society, before 
 whom he was appointed, in 1809, to preach their annual 
 sermon. This sermon may be appealed to as a fair and 
 characteristic specimen of his powers in the pulpit ; though
 
 INTRODtJCTION. 15 
 
 I must be allowed tO say, that his flowing and harmo- 
 nious language, his graceful delivery, and sweet expres- 
 sion of features, beaming with love to God and good-will 
 to men, imparted a charm which the mere reader of a 
 printed sermon can by no means duly appreciate. 
 
 His preaching, for a long series of years, was altogether 
 extemporaneous. His ready utterance, his exuberant 
 fancy, his aptness of illustration, his deep knowledge of 
 divine things, rendered his sermons always interesting and 
 useful. Perhaps he did not, upon common occasions, 
 allow himself sufficient previous study ; but if this loere 
 his fault, he acted upon principle. "Why," he would 
 often say, "why need I labor, when our simple villagers 
 are far more usefully instructed in my plain, easy, familiar 
 manner ] The only result would be, that I should ad- 
 dress them in a style beyond their comprehension." 
 
 His appearance on the platform of a public meeting was 
 universally hailed with pleasure. His ready adaptation of 
 passing incidents, the suavity of his addresses, sometimes 
 solemn, sometimes even jocose, interspersed with interest- 
 ing narratives, which he could so well relate, deservedly 
 placed him high in public esteem. 
 
 I ought, perhaps, to state, that in 1814, Mr. Richmond 
 was appointed chaplain to the late Duke of Kent, by whom 
 he was honored with a share of his Royal Highncss's 
 friendship. In 1817, Mr. R. was presented by the late 
 Emperor Alexander of Russia, with a splendid ring, as a 
 testimony of the approbation with which his Imperial Ma- 
 jesty viewed the narratives in this volume. 
 
 Many peaceful years were passed at Turvey. Happy 
 in the bosom of his family, no man more excelled as a pat- 
 tern of domestic virtues, than Legh Richmond.
 
 16 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 At length, in 1825, Mr. R.'s domestic happiness sus- 
 tained a severe blow by the death of his second son, a 
 youth in his nineteenth year. For this beloved child, he 
 had fostered many a fond hope and anxious expectation, 
 and beheld with all a father's joy, " non flosculos — sed 
 jam certos atque deformatos fructus." This fair flower 
 was withered by consumption, and the bereaved parent, 
 though he submitted as a Christian, yet sorrowed as a 
 man. In a few short months the stroke was repeated. 
 Intelligence arrived that his eldest son, who had been ab- 
 sent many years, had died on his voyage from India to 
 England. 
 
 These afflictive dispensations had a marked and peculiar 
 effect upon Legh Richmond. He who used to ^e the life 
 of the domestic and social circle, would now be silent and 
 abstracted : yet it was not the morbid gloom of a repining 
 heart, it was rather the solemnity of conviction that he 
 should ere long rejoin his lamented children. His bodily 
 health, too, seemed in some measure decaying. His mul- 
 titude of pastoral duties were too heavy for his strength. 
 For the last twelve months of his life he was troubled with 
 an irritating cough, which seemed to indicate an affection 
 of the lungs. At length, (March, 1827,) he contracted a 
 violent cold, which issued in pleurisy; from which, how- 
 ever, he shortly appeared to be recovering. During all 
 this time, when certainly no immediate danger uas ap- 
 prehended, he was peacefully and quietly setting his house 
 in order. To his family he knew the idea of separation 
 would be agony: he therefore scarcely hinted to iJiem 
 what he felt was nigh at hand : but to a clerical friend, 
 he, in striking words, professed that simple reliance on 
 the atonement of Christ, which alone can cheer and sup-
 
 INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 port the soul in the hour of dissolution. It soon became 
 evident to those around him, that the flood of life was 
 ebbing calmly, yet fast : and at last, (May 8,) without 
 pain or struggle, the ready spirit sweetly and softly pass- 
 ed from her tenement — and Legh Richmond slept in 
 Jesus. 
 
 Farewell, dear friend and father ! Very pleasant were 
 the hours and years of our communion : but they are 
 passed away, and the savor only, sad yet sweet, remains. 
 "Farewell, dear friend, till the morning of an eternal day 
 renew our personal intercourse !" May I meet thee in a 
 better world. 
 
 I cannot but connect the closing hours of my beloved 
 friend, with that affecting prayer which he has breathed 
 in the Young Cottager, (Part IV.) He had been describ- 
 ing the useful course and peaceful termination of a little 
 rivulet, which glides through a very lovely glen, by which 
 he was meditating. " May my course be like unto thine, 
 thou little rivulet ! Though short be my span of life, yet 
 may I be useful to my fellow-sinners as I travel onward ! 
 Let me be a dispenser of spiritual support and health to 
 many ! Like this stream, may I prove the poor man's 
 friend by the way, and water the souls that thirst for the 
 river of life, wherever I meet them ! And if it pleases 
 thee, O my God, let me in my latter end be like this 
 brook ! It calmly, though not quite silently, flows through 
 this scene of peace and loveliness, just before it enters 
 the sea. Let me thus gently close my days likewise ; 
 and may I not unusefully tell to others of the goodness 
 and mercy of my Saviour, till J arrive at the vast ocean of 
 eternity." 
 
 That prayer was surely answered. He did tell to men, 
 
 a*
 
 18 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 with abundant blessing, of the goodness and mercy of his 
 Saviour : he did thus gently close his days. 
 
 Soldier of Christ, well done I 
 
 Praise be thy new employ ; 
 And while eternal ages run, 
 
 Rest in thy Saviour's joy. 
 
 J A, 
 
 Islington. 
 Feb. 21st, 182a
 
 THE 
 
 DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 It is a delightful employment to discover and trace the 
 operations of divine grace, as they are manifested in the 
 dispositions and lives of God's real children. It is pecu- 
 liarly gratifying to observe how frequently, among the 
 poorer classes of mankind, the sunshine of mercy beams 
 upon the heart, and bears witness to the image of Christ 
 which the Spirit of God has impressed thereupon. Among 
 such, the sincerity and simplicity of the Christian charac- 
 ter appear unencumbered by those obstacles to spirituality 
 of mind and conversation, which too often prove a great 
 hindrance to those who live in the higher ranks. Many 
 are the difficulties which riches, worldly consequence, high 
 connections, and the luxuriant refinements of polished so- 
 ciety, throw in the way of religious profession. Happy 
 indeed it is (and some such happy instances I know) where 
 grace has so strikingly supported its conflict with natural 
 pride, self-importance, the allurements of luxury, ease, 
 and worldly opinion, that the noble and mighty appear
 
 20 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 adorned with genuine poverty of spirit, self-denial, humble 
 mindedness, and deep spirituality of heart. 
 
 But, in general, if we want to see religion in its most 
 simple and pure character, we must look for it among the 
 poor of this world, who are rich in faith. How often is 
 the poor man's cottage the palace of God ! Many can 
 truly declare, that they have there learned the most valu- 
 able lessons of faith and hope, and there witnessed the 
 most striking demonstrations of the wisdom, pov;er, and 
 goodness of God. 
 
 The character which the present narrative is designed 
 to introduce to the notice of my readers, is given /row real 
 life and circumstance. I first became acquainted with her 
 by receiving the following letter, which I transcribe from 
 the original now before me. 
 
 '• Rev. Sir, 
 
 " I take the liberty to write to you. Pray ex- 
 cuse me, for I have never spoken to you. But I once 
 
 heard you when you preached at church. I believe 
 
 you are a faithful preacher to warn sinners to flee from 
 the wrath that will be revealed against all those tliat live 
 in sin, and die impenitent. Pray go on in the strength of 
 the Lord. And may he bless you, and crown your labor 
 of love with success, and give you souls for your hire ! 
 
 " The Lord has promised tc be with those whom he calls 
 and sends forth to preach his word to the end of time ; for 
 without him we can do nothing. I was much rejoiced to 
 hear of those marks of love and affection to that poor sol- 
 dier of the S. D. militia. Surely the love of Christ sent 
 you to that poor man : may that love ever dwell richly in 
 you by faith ! may it constrain you to seek the wandering
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 21 
 
 souls of men with the fervent desire to spend and be spent 
 for his glory ! May the unction of the Holy Spirit attend 
 the word spoken by you with power, and convey deep con- 
 viction to the hearts of your hearers ! May many of them 
 experience the divine change of being made new creatures 
 in Christ ! 
 
 " Sir, be fervent in prayer with God for the conversion 
 of sinners. His power is great, and who can withstand 
 it"? He has promised to answer the prayer of faith, that 
 is put up in his Son's name. * Ask what ye will, it shall 
 be granted you.' How this should strengthen our faith 
 when we are taught by the word and the Spirit how to 
 pray ! O that sweet inspiring hope ; how it lifts up the 
 fainting spirits, when we look over the precious promises 
 of God ! What a mercy if we know Christ and the power 
 of his resurrection in our own hearts ! Through faith in 
 Christ we rejoice in hope, and look up in expectation of that 
 time drawing near, when all shall know and fear the Lord, 
 and when a nation shall be born in a day. 
 
 "What a happy time, when Christ's kingdom shall 
 come ! then shall ' his will be done on earth, as it is in 
 heaven.' Men shall be daily fed with the manna of his 
 love, and delight themselves in the Lord all the day long. 
 Then what a paradise below will they enjoy ! How it 
 animates and enlivens my soul with vigor to pursue the 
 ways of God, that I may even now bear some humble part 
 in giving glory to God and the Lamb ! 
 
 " Sir, I began to write this on Sunday, being detained 
 from attending on public worship. My dear and only sis- 
 ter, living as a servant with Mrs. , was so ill, that I 
 
 came here to attend in her place and on her. But now 
 she is no more.
 
 22 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 " I was going to entreat you to write to her in answer 
 to this ; she being convinced of the evil of her past life, 
 and that she had not walked in the ways of God, nor 
 sought to please him. But she earnestly desired to do so. 
 This makes me have a comfortable h-ope that she is gone 
 to glory, and that she is now joining in sweet concert with 
 the angelic host in heaven to sing the wonders of redeem- 
 ing love. 1 hope I may now write, ' Blessed are the dead 
 that die in the Lord.' 
 
 " She expressed a desire to receive the Lord's Supper, 
 and commemorate his precious death and sufferings. I 
 told her, as well as I was able, what it was to receive 
 Christ into her heart ; but as her wea'kness of body in- 
 creased, she did not mention it again. She seemed quite 
 resigned before she died. I do hope she is gone from a 
 world of death and sin to be with God for ever. 
 
 " Sir, I hope you will not be offended with me, a poor 
 Ignorant person, to take such a liberty as to write to you. 
 But I trust, as you are called to instruct sinners in the 
 ways of God, you will bear with me, and be so kind to 
 answer this ill-wrote letter, and give me some instructions. 
 It is my heart's desire to have the mind that was in Christ, 
 that when I awake up in his likeness then I may be satisfied. 
 
 " My sister expressed! a wish that you might bury her. 
 The minister of our parish, whither she will be carried, can- 
 not come. She will lie at . She died on Tuesday 
 
 morning, and will be buried on Friday or Saturday (which- 
 ever is most convenient to you) at three o'clock in the 
 afternoon. Please to send an answer by the bearer, to let 
 me know whether you can comply with this request. 
 " From your unworthy servant, 
 
 "Elizabeth W ."
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 23 
 
 I was much struck with the simple and earnest strain 
 of devotion which this letter breathed. It was but indif- 
 ferently written and spell. But this the rather tended to 
 endear the hitherto unknown writer, as it seemed charac- 
 teristic of the union of humbleness of station with emi- 
 nence of piety. I felt quite thankful that 1 was favored 
 with a correspondent of this description ; the more so, as 
 such characters were at that time very rare in the neigh- 
 borhood. I have often wished that epistolary intercourse 
 of this kind was more encouraged and practised among 
 us. I have the greatest reason to speak well of its effects 
 both on myself and others. Communication by letter as 
 well as by conversation with the pious poor, has often been 
 the instrument of animating and reviving my own heart 
 in the midst of duty, and of giving me the most profitable 
 information for the general conduct of the ministerial office. 
 
 As soon as the letter was read, I inquired who was the 
 bearer of it. 
 
 " He is waiting at the outside of the gate, sir," was 
 the reply. 
 
 I went out to speak to him, and saw a venerable old 
 man, whose long hoary hair and deeply-wrinkled counte- 
 nance commanded more than common respect. He was 
 resting his arm upon the gate, and tears were streaming 
 down his cheeks. On my approach he made a low bow, 
 and said, 
 
 " Sir, I have brought you a letter from my daughter ; 
 but I fear you will think us very bold in asking you to take 
 so much trouble." 
 
 "By no means," I replied; "I shall be truly glad to 
 oblige you and any of your family in this matter, pro- 
 vided it be quite agreeable to the minister of your parish."
 
 24 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 " Sir, he told me yesterday, that he should be very glad 
 if I could procure some gentleman to come and bury my 
 poor child for him, as he lives five miles off, and has par- 
 ticular business on that day : so when I told my daughter, 
 she asked me to come to you, sir, and bring that letter, 
 which would explain the matter." 
 
 I desired him to come into the house, and then said, 
 
 " What is your occupation I" 
 
 " Sir, I have lived most of my days in a little cottage 
 
 at , six miles from here. I have rented a few acres 
 
 of ground, and kept some cows, which, in addition to my 
 day-labor, has been the means of supporting and bringing 
 up my family." 
 
 " What family have you ]" 
 
 "A wife, now getting very aged and helpless, two 
 sons, and one daughter ; for ray other poor dear child is 
 just departed out of this wicked world." 
 
 " I hope for a better." 
 
 " I hope so too ; poor thing, she did not use to take to 
 such good ways as her sister ; but I do believe that her 
 sister's manner of talking with her before she died was 
 the means of saving her soul. What a mercy it is to have 
 such a child as mine is I I never thought about my own 
 soul seriously till she,' poor girl, begged me to flee from 
 the wrath to come." 
 
 " How old are you 1" 
 
 " Near seventy, and my wife is older , we are gettmg 
 old and almost past our labor, but our daughter has left a 
 good place, where she lived in service, on purpose to 
 come home and take care of us and our little dairy. And 
 a dear, dutiful, affectionate girl she is." 
 
 " Was she always so 3"
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 25 
 
 " No, sir ; when she was very young, she was all for- 
 the world, and pleasure, and dress, and company. Indeed,, 
 we were all very ignorant, and thought if we took care' 
 for this life, and wronged nobody, we should be sure to go 
 to heaven at last. My daughters were both wilful, and, 
 like ourselves, strangers to the ways of God and the word 
 of his grace. But the eldest of them went out to service, . 
 
 and some years ago, she heard a sermon preached at 
 
 church, by a gentleman that was going to , as chap- 
 lain to the colony, and from that time she seemed quite 
 another creature. She began to read the Bible, and be- 
 came sober and steady. The first time she returned ^ 
 home afterward to see us, she brought us a guinea 
 which she had saved from her wages, and said, as we- 
 were getting old, she was sure we should want help;, 
 adding, that she did not wish to spend it in fine- clothes, 
 as she used to do, only to feed pride and vanity. She- 
 said she would rather show gratitude to her dear fa- 
 ther and mother, because Christ had shown such mercy 
 to her. 
 
 " We wondered to hear her talk, and took great delight^ 
 m her company; for her temper and behavior were so- 
 humble and kind, she seemed so desirous to do us good 
 both in soul and body, and was so different from what we 
 had ever seen her before, that,, careless and ignorant as 
 we had been, we began to think there must be something 
 real in religion, or it never could alter a person so much in^ 
 a little time. 
 
 "Her youngest sister, poor soul! used to laugh and 
 ridicule her at that time, and said her head was turned 
 with her new ways. 'No^ sister,' she would say, ' not my 
 headt but I hope my Heart is turned from the love of sin
 
 26 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 to the love of God. I wish you may one day see, as I do, 
 ithe danger and vanity of your present condition.' 
 
 -*' Her poor sister would reply, ' I do not want to hear 
 any of your preaching ; I am no worse than other people, 
 and that is enough for me.' — 'Well, sister,' Elizabeth 
 would say^ -* if you will not hear me, you cannot hinder me 
 .from praying for you, which I do with all my heart.' 
 
 " And now, sir, I believe those prayers are answered. 
 .'For when her sister was taken ill, Elizabeth went to 
 
 Mrs. 's to wait in her place, and take care of her. 
 
 She said a great deal to her about her soul, and the poor 
 girl began to be so deeply affected, and sensible of her 
 past sin, and so thankful for her sister's kind behavior, 
 that it gave her great hopes indeed for her sake. When 
 my wife and I went to see her as she lay sick, she told us 
 how grieved and ashanwd she was of her past life; but 
 said, she had a hope through grace that her dear sister's 
 Saviour would be her Saviour too ; for she saw her own 
 sinfulness, felt her own helplessness, and only wished to 
 cast herself upon Christ as her hope and salvation. 
 
 " And now, sir, she is gone, and I hope and think her 
 sister's prayers for her conversion to God have been 
 answered. The Lord grant the same for her poor father 
 and mother's sake liket^-ise !" 
 
 This conversation was a very pleasing commentary 
 'Upon the letter which I had received, and made me anx- 
 "ious both to comply with the request, and to become 
 acquainted with the writer. I promised the good Dairy- 
 rman to attend on the Friday at the appointed hour ; and 
 after some more conversation respecting his own state of 
 'inind under the present trial, he went away. 
 
 .He was a reverend old man ; his furrowed cheeks. 
 
 I 
 
 i
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 27 
 
 white locks, weeping eyes, bent shoulders, and feeble gait, 
 were characteristic of the aged pilgrim. As he slowly walk- 
 ed onward, supported by a stick, which seemed to have 
 been the companion of many a long year, a train of reflec- 
 tions occurred, which I retrace with pleasure and emotion. 
 
 At the appointed hour I arrived at the church ; and 
 after a little while, was summoned to the churchyard gate 
 to meet the funeral procession. The aged parents, the 
 elder brother, and the sister, with other relatives, formed 
 an affecting group ! I was struck with the humble, pious, 
 and pleasing countenance of the young woman from whom 
 I had received the letter. It bore the marks of great 
 seriousness without affectation, and of much serenity 
 mingled with a glow of devotion. 
 
 A circumstance occurred during the reading of the 
 Burial Service, which I think it right to mention, as one 
 among many testimonies of the solemn and impressive 
 tendency of our truly evangelical Liturgy. 
 
 A man of the village, who had hitherto been of a very 
 careless and even profligate character, went into the 
 church through mere curiosity, and with no better purpose 
 than that of vacantly gazing at the ceremony. He came 
 likewise to the grave, and during the reading of those 
 prayers which are appointed for that part of the service, 
 his mind received a deep, serious conviction of his sin and 
 spiritual danger. It was an impression that never wore 
 off, but gradually ripened into the most satisfactory evi- 
 dence of an entire change, of which I had many and 
 long-continued proofs. He always referred to the Burial 
 Service, and to some particular sentences of it, as the 
 clearly ascertained instrument of bringing him, through 
 grace, to the knowledge of the truth.
 
 aO THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The day was therefore one to be remembered. Re- 
 membered let it be by those who love to hear " the short 
 and simple annals of the poor." 
 
 Was there not a manifest and happy connection between 
 the circumstances that providentially brought the serious 
 and the careless to the same grave on that day together 1 
 How much do they lose who neglect to trace the leadings 
 of God in providence, as links in the chain of his eternal 
 purpose of redemption and grace ! 
 
 " While [nfidels may scoff, let us adore !" 
 
 After the service was concluded, I had a short conver- 
 sation* with the good old couple and their daughter. She 
 told me that she intended to remain a week or two at the 
 gentleman's house where her sister died, till another 
 servant should arrive and take her sister's place. 
 
 " I shall be truly obliged," said she, " by an opportunity 
 of conversing with you, either there or at my father's, 
 when I return home, which will be in the course of a 
 fortnight at the farthest. I shall be glad to talk to you 
 about my sister, whom you have just buried." 
 
 Her aspect and address were highly interesting. I 
 promised to see her very soon ; and then returned home, 
 quietly reflecting on the circumstances of the funeral at 
 which I had been engaged. I blessed the God of the 
 poor, and prcayed that the poor might become rich in faith, 
 and the rich be made poor in spirit.
 
 THE dairyman's DAUCxHTER. 39 
 
 PART II. 
 
 A SWEET solemnity often possesses the mind, whilst 
 retracing past intercourse with departed friends. How 
 much is this increased, when they were such as lived and 
 died in the Lord ! The remembrance of former scenes 
 and conversations with those who, we believe, are now en- 
 joying the uninterrupted happiness of a better world, fills 
 the heart with pleasing sadness, and animates the soul 
 with the hopeful anticipation of a day when the glory of 
 the Lord shall be revealed in the assembling of all his 
 children together, never more to be separated. Whether 
 they were rich or poor, while on earth, is a matter of 
 trifling consequence : the valuable part of their charac- 
 ter is, that they are kings and priests unto God, and this 
 is their true nobility. In the number of now departed be- 
 lievers, with whom I once loved to converse on the grace 
 and glory of the kingdom of God, was the Dairyman's 
 Daughter. 
 
 About a week after the funeral, I went to visit the 
 
 family at , in whose service the youngest sister had 
 
 lived and died, and where Elizabeth was requested to re- 
 main for a short time in her stead. 
 
 The house was a large and venerable mansion. It stood 
 in a beautiful valley at the foot of a high hill. It was em- 
 bowered in fine woods, which were interspersed in every 
 direction with rising, falling, and swelling grounds. The 
 manor-house had evidently descended through a long line 
 of ancestry, from a distant period of time. The Gothic 
 character of its original architecture was still preserved 
 3*
 
 90 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 in the latticed windows, adorned with carved di\ isions and 
 pillars of stonework. Several pointed terminations also, 
 in the construction of the roof, according to the custom of 
 our forefathers, fully corresponded with the general fea- 
 tures of the building. 
 
 One end of the house was entirely clothed with the thick 
 fohage of an immense ivy, which climbed beyond cus- 
 tomary limits, and embraced a lofty chimney up to its very 
 summit. Such a tree seemed congenial to the walls that 
 supported it, and conspired with the antique fashion of the 
 place to carry imagination back to the days of our ances- 
 tors. 
 
 As I approached, I was led to reflect on the lapse of 
 ages, and the successive generations of men, each in their 
 turn occupying lands, houses, and domains ; each in their 
 turn also disappearing, and leaving their inheritance to be 
 enjoyed by others. David once observed the same, and 
 cried out, " Behold, thou hast made my days as a hand- 
 breadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee : verily, 
 every man at his best estate is altogether Vanity. Surely 
 every man walketh in a vain show ; surely they are dis- 
 quieted in vain : he heapeth up riches, and cannot tell who 
 shall gather them." 
 
 Happy would it be for the rich, if they more frequently 
 meditated on the uncertainty of all their possessions, and 
 the frail nature of every earthly tenure. " Their inward 
 thought is, that their houses shall continue for ever, and 
 their dwelling-places to all generations ; they call their lands 
 after their own names. Nevertheless, man, being in honor, 
 abideth not ; he is like the beasts that pjrish. This their 
 way is their folly ; yet their posterity approve their say- 
 ings. Like sheep, they are laid in the grave : death shall
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 31 
 
 feed on them : and their beauty shall consume in the grave 
 from their dwelling." 
 
 As I advanced to the mansion, a pleasing kind of gloom 
 overspread the front : it was occasioned by the shade of 
 trees, and gave a characteristic effect to the ancient fabric. 
 I instantly recollected that death had very recently visited 
 the house, and that one of its present inhabitants was an 
 affectionate mourner for a departed sister. 
 
 There is a solemnity in the thought of a recent death, 
 which will associate itself with the very walls from whence 
 we are conscious that a soul has just taken its flight to 
 eternity. 
 
 After passing some time in conversation with the supe- 
 riors of the family, in the course of which I was much 
 gratified by hearing of the unremitted attention which the 
 elder sister had paid to the younger, during the illness 
 of the latter ; I received likewise other testimonies of the 
 excellency of her general character and conduct in the 
 house : I then took leave, requesting permission to see 
 her, agreeably to the promise I had made at the funeral, 
 not many days before. 
 
 I was shown into a parlor, where I found her alone. 
 She was in deep mourning. She had a calmness and 
 serenity in her countenance, which exceedingly struck 
 me, and impressed some idea of those attainments which 
 a further acquaintance with her afterward so much iu- 
 creased. 
 
 She spoKe of her sister. I had the satisfaction of find, 
 ing that she had given very hopeful proofs of a change of 
 heart, before she died. The prayers and earnest exhorta- 
 tions of Elizabeth had been blessed to a happy effect. She 
 described what had passed with such a mixture of sisterly
 
 32 THE DAIRT3IAN's DAUGHTER. 
 
 affection, and pious dependence on the mercy Off God to 
 sinners, as convinced me that her own heart was under 
 the influence of " pure and undefiled religion." 
 
 She requested leave occasionally to correspond with me 
 on serious subjects, stating that she needed much instruc- 
 tion. She hoped I would pardon the liberty which she 
 had taken by introducing herself to my notice. She ex- 
 pressed a trust that the Lord would overrule both the 
 death of her sister, and the personal acquaintance with 
 me that resulted from it, to a present and future good, as 
 it respected herself and also her parents, with whom she 
 statedly lived, and to whom she expected to return in a 
 few days. 
 
 Finding that she was wanted in some household duty, 1 
 did not remain long with her ; but left her with an assu- 
 rance that I proposed to visit her parents very shortly. 
 
 " Sir," said she, " I take it very kind that you have con- 
 descended to leave the company of the rich and converse 
 with tlie poor. I wish I could have said more to you re- 
 specting my own state of mind. Perhaps I shall be bet- 
 ter able another time. When you next visit me, instead 
 of finding me in these noble walls, you will see me in a 
 poor cottage. But I am happiest when there. Once 
 more, sir, I thank youJor your past kindness to me and 
 mine, and may God in many ways bless you for it !" 
 
 I quitted the house with no small degree of satisfaction, 
 in consequence of the new acquaintance which I had 
 formed. I discovered traces of a cultivated, as well as 
 a spiritual mind. I felt that religious intercourse with 
 those of low estate may be rendered eminently useful to 
 others, whose outward station and advantages are far above 
 their own.
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 33 
 
 How often does it appear, that " God hath chosen the 
 weak things of the world to confound the things which 
 are mighty : and base things of the world, and things 
 which are despised, hath God chosen, and things which 
 are not, to bring to nought things that are ; that no flesh 
 should glory in his presence." 
 
 It was not unfrequently my custom, when ray mind was 
 filled with any interesting subject for meditation, to seek 
 some spot where the beauties of natural prospect might 
 help to form pleasing and useful associations. I therefore 
 ascended gradually to the very summit of the hill adjoin- 
 ing the mansion where my visit had just been made. Here 
 was placed an elevated sea-mark : it was in the form of a 
 triangular pyramid, and built of stone. I sat down on the 
 ground near it, and looked at the surrounding prospect, 
 which was distinguished for beauty and magnificence. It 
 was a lofty station, which commanded a complete circle 
 of interesting objects to engage the spectator's attentionr 
 
 Southward the view was terminated by a long range of 
 hills, at about six miles distance. They met, to the west- 
 ward, another chain of hills, of which the one whereon I 
 sat formed a link, and the whole together nearly encom- 
 passed a rich and fruitful valley, filled with cornfields and 
 pastures. Through this vale winded a small river for 
 many miles : much cattle were feeding on its banks. Herft 
 and there lesser eminences arose in the valley ; some 
 covered with wood, others with corn or grass, and a few 
 with heath or fern. One of these little hills was distin- 
 guished by a parish church at the top, presenting a striking 
 feature in the landscape. Another of these elevations, 
 situated in the centre of the valley, was adorned with a 
 venerable holly-tree, which has grown there for ages. Its
 
 3$ THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 singular height and wide-spreading dimensions not only 
 render it an object of curiosity to the traveller, but of 
 daily usefulness to the pilot, as a mark visible from the 
 sea, whereby to direct his vessel safe into harbor. Vil- 
 lages, churches, country-seats, farm-houses, and cottages, 
 were scattered over every part of the southern valley. In 
 this direction also, at the foot of the hill where I was 
 stationed, appeared the ancient mansion, which I had just 
 quitted, embellished with its woods, groves, and gardens. 
 
 Southeastward, I saw the open ocean, bounded only by 
 the horizon. The sun shone, and gilded the waves with 
 a glittering light that sparkled in the most brilliant man- 
 ner. More to the east, in continuation of that line of 
 hills where I was placed, rose two downs, one beycnd the 
 other ; both covered with sheep, and the sea just visible 
 over the furthest of them, as a terminating boundary. In 
 this point ships were seen, some sailing, others at anchoB. 
 Here the little river, which watered the southern valley, 
 finished its course, and ran through meadows into the sea, 
 in an eastward direction. 
 
 On tlie north the sea appeared like a noble river, vary- 
 ing from three to seven miles in breadth, between the 
 banks of the opposite coast and those of the island which 
 I inhabited. Immediately underneath me was a fine 
 woody district of country, diversified by many pleasing 
 objects. Distant towns were visible du the opposite 
 shore. Numbers of ships occupied the sheltered station 
 which this northern channel afforded them. The eye 
 roamed with delight over an expanse of near and remote 
 beauties, which alternately caught the observation, and 
 which harmonized together, and produced a scene of pe- 
 culiar interest.
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 35 
 
 Westward the hills followed each other, forming several 
 intermediate and partial valleys, in a kind of undulations, 
 like the waves of the sea ; and bending to the south, 
 completed the boundary of the larger valley before de- 
 scribed, to the southward of the hill on which I sat. In 
 many instances the hills were cultivated with corn to 
 their very summits, and seemed to defy the inclemency of 
 weather, which, at these heights, usually renders the 
 ground incapable of bringing forth and ripening the crops 
 of grain. One hill alone, the highest in elevation, and 
 above ten miles to the southwestward, was enveloped in 
 a cloud, which just permitted a dim and hazy sight of a 
 signal-post, a lighthouse, and an ancient chantry, built 
 on its summit. 
 
 Amidst these numerous specimens of delightful scenery 
 I found a mount for contemplation, and here I indulged it. 
 
 "How much of the natural beauties of Paradise still 
 remain in the world, although its spiritual character has 
 been so awfully defaced by sin ! But when divine grace 
 renews the heart of the fallen sinner. Paradise is regained, 
 and much of its beauty restored to the soul. As this 
 prospect is compounded of hill and dale, land and sea, 
 woods and plains, all sweetly blended together and re- 
 lieving each other in the landscape ; so do the gracious 
 dispositions wrought in the soul, produce a beauty and 
 harmony of scene to which it was before a stranger." 
 
 I looked towards the village in the plain below, where 
 the Dairyman's younger daughter was buried. I retraced 
 the simple solemnities of the funeral. I connected the 
 principles and conduct of her sister with the present pro- 
 bably happy state of her soul in the world of spirits, and 
 was greatly impressed with a sense of the importance of
 
 86 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 family influence as a mean of grace. " That young wo- 
 man," I thought, "has been the conductor of not only a 
 sister, but perhaps a father and mother also, to the true 
 knowledge of God, and may, by divine blessing, become 
 so to others. It is a glorious occupation to win souls to 
 Christ, and guide them out of Egyptian bondage through 
 the wilderness into the promised Canaan. Happy are the 
 families who are walking hand in hand together, as pil- 
 grims, towards the heavenly country. May the number 
 of such be daily increased !" 
 
 Casting my eye over the numerous dwellings in the 
 vales on my right and left, I could not help thinking, 
 " How many of their inhabitants are ignorant of the ways 
 of God, and strangers to his grace ! May this thought 
 stimulate to activity and diligence in the cause of immor- 
 tal souls ! They are precious in God's sight — they aught 
 to be so in ours." 
 
 Some pointed and affecting observations to that effect 
 recurred to my mind as having been made by tlie young 
 person with whom I had been just conversing. Her 
 mind appeared to be much impressed with the duty of 
 speaking and acting for God "while it is day;" conscious 
 that the "night cometh, when no man can work." Her 
 laudable anxiety on this head was often testified to me 
 afterward, both by letter and conversation. What she 
 felt herself, in respect to endeavors to do good, she hap- 
 pily communicated to others with whom she corresponded 
 or conversed. 
 
 Time would not permit my continuing so long in the 
 enjoyment of these meditations on this lovely mount of 
 observation, as my heart desired. On my return home I 
 wrote a few lines to the Dairyman's daughter, chiefly
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 37 
 
 dictated by the train of thought which had occupied my 
 mind while I sat on the hill. 
 
 On the next Sunday evening I received her reply, of 
 which the following- is a transcript : 
 
 <* Sunday. 
 Rkv. Sir, 
 
 "I am this day deprived of an opportunity of attending 
 the house of God, to worship him. But, glory be to his 
 name ! he is not confined to time nor place. I feel him 
 present with me where I am, and his presence makes my 
 Paradise ; for where he is, is heaven. I pray God that a 
 double portion of his grace and Holy Spirit may rest upon 
 you this day ; that his blessing may attend all your faith- 
 ful labors ; and that you may find the truth of his Word, 
 assuring us, that wherever we assemble together in his 
 name, there he is in the midst to bless every waiting soul. 
 
 " How precious are all his promises ! We ought never 
 to doubt the truth of his Word. For he will never deceive 
 us if we go on in faith, always expecting to receive what 
 his goodness waits to give. Dear sir, I have felt it very 
 consoling to read your kind letter to-day. I feel thankful 
 to God for ministers in our church who love and fear his 
 name : there it is where the people in general look for 
 salvation ; and there may they ever find it, for Jesu's 
 sake ! May his Word, spoken by you his chosen vessel 
 of grace, be made spirit and life to their dead souls ! 
 May it come from you as an instrument in the hands of 
 God, as sharp arrows from a strong archer, and strike a. 
 death-blow to all their sins ! How I long to see the ar- 
 rows of conviction fasten on the minds of those that are; 
 hearers of the Word and not doers ! O sir ! be ambitious 
 for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. It will 
 
 375921)
 
 38 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 add to the lustre of your crown in glory, as well as to 
 your present joy and peace. We should be willing to 
 spend and be spent in his service, sayin;;^, ' Lord, may thy 
 will be done by me on earth, even as it is by thy angels 
 ',n heaven.' So you may expect to see his face with joy, 
 I nd say, 'Here am I, Lord, and all the souls thou hast 
 given me.' 
 
 " It seems wonderful that we should neglect any oppor- 
 ti nity of doing good, wben there is, if it be done from 
 love to God and his creatures, a present reward of grace, 
 in reflecting that we are using the talents committed to 
 our care according to the power and ability which we 
 receive from him. God requires not what he has not 
 promised to give. But when we look back, and reflect 
 that there have been opportunities in which we have 
 neglected to take up our cross and speak and act for God; 
 what a dejection of mind we feel! We are then justly 
 filled with shame. Conscious of being ashamed of Christ, 
 we cannot come with that holy boldness to a throne of 
 grace, nor feel that free access when we make our 
 supplications. 
 
 " We are commanded to provoke one another to love 
 and good works ; and where two are agreed together in 
 the things of God, they may say, 
 
 » /Vnd if our fellowsliip below 
 
 In Jesus t)e so sweet, 
 What heiglits of rapture shall we kno\r, 
 
 When round the throne we meet !' 
 
 •' Sir, I hope Mrs. and you are both of one heart 
 
 and one mind. Then you will sweetly agree in all things 
 that make for your present and eternal happiness. Christ
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 39 
 
 sent his disciples out, not singly, but two and two ; that 
 they might comfort and help each other in those ways and 
 works which their Lord commanded them to pursue. 
 
 " It has been my lot to have been alone the greatest 
 part of the time that I have known the ways of God. I 
 therefore find it such a treat to my soul when I can meet 
 with any who loves to talk of the goodness and love of 
 God, and all his gracious dealings. What a comfortable 
 reflection, to think of spending a whole eternity in that 
 delightful employment ! to tell to listening angels his 
 love, 'immense, unsearchable !' 
 
 " Dear sir, I thank you for your kindness and conde- 
 scension in leaving those that are of high rank and birth 
 in the world, to converse with me who am but a servant 
 here below. But when 1 consider what a high calling, 
 what honor and dignity God has conferred upon me, to be 
 called his child, to be born of his Spirit, made an heir of 
 glory, and joint heir with Christ ; how humble and cir- 
 cumspect should I be in all my ways, as a dutiful and 
 loving child to an affectionate and loving Father ! When 
 I seriously consider these things, it fills me with love and 
 gratitude to God, and I do not wish for any higher station, 
 nor envy the rich. I rather pity them if they are not good 
 as well as great. My blessed Lord was pleased to appear 
 in the form of a servant ; and I long to be like him. 
 
 " I did not feel in so happy a frame for conversation that 
 day, nor yet that liberty to explain my thoughts, which I 
 sometimes do. The fault must have been all in myself; 
 for there was nothing in you but what seemed to evidence 
 a Christian spirit, temper, and disposition. I very much 
 wished for an opportunity to converse with you. I feel 
 very thankful to God that you do take up the cross, and
 
 m THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 
 
 despise the shame : if you are found faithful, you will 
 soon sit down with him in glory. 
 
 " I have written to the Rev. Mr. , to thank him 
 
 for permitting you to perform the Burial Service, at , 
 
 over my dear departed sister, and to tell him of the kind 
 way in which you consented to do it. I should mention 
 that your manner of reading the service on that day had 
 a considerable effect on the hearers. 
 
 "Pray excuse all faults, and correct my errors. I ex- 
 pect in a few days to return home to my parents' house. 
 VVe shall rejoice to see you there. 
 
 " From your humble servant in Christ, 
 
 «E W ." 
 
 It was impossible to view such a correspondent with 
 indifference. I had just returned from a little cottage as- 
 sembly, where, on Sunday evenings, I sometimes went to 
 instruct a few poor families in one of the hamlets belong- 
 ing to my parish. I read the letter, and closed the day 
 with thanksgiving to God for thus enabling those who 
 fear his name to build up each other in fear and love. 
 
 Of old time, " they that feared the Lord spake often one 
 to another : and the Lord hearkened and heard it, and a 
 book of remembrance was written before him, for them 
 that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name." 
 
 That hook of remembrance is not yet closed.
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 41 
 
 PART III. 
 
 The mind of man is like a moving picture, supplied 
 with ()])jects, not only from contemplation on things pre- 
 isent, but from the fruitful sources of recollection and 
 anticipation. 
 
 Memory retraces past events, and restores an ideal 
 reality to scenes which are gone by for ever. They live 
 again in revived imagery, and we seem to hear and see 
 with renewed emotions what we heard and saw at a 
 former period. Successions of such recollected circum- 
 stances often form a series of welcome memorials. In 
 religious meditations the memory becomes a sanctified 
 instrument of spiritual improvement. 
 
 Another part of this animated picture is furnished by the 
 pencil of Hope. She draws encouraging prospects for the 
 soul by connecting the past and present with the future. 
 Seeing the promises afar off, she is persuaded of their 
 truth, and embraces them as her own. 
 
 The Spirit of God gives a blessing to both these acts 
 of the mind, and employs them in the service of religion. 
 Every faculty of body and soul, when considered as a part 
 of "the purchased possession" of the Saviour, assumes a 
 new character. IIow powerfully does the Apostle, on this 
 ground, urge a plea for holy activity and watclifulness ! 
 " What ! know ye not that your body is the temple of the 
 Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and 
 ye are not your own ] For ye are bought with a price : 
 therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, 
 which are God's." 
 
 4*
 
 42 THE DAIRT3IA^- S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The Christian may derive much profit and enjoyment 
 from the use of the memory as it concerns those transac- 
 tions in which he once bore a part. In his.endeavors to 
 recall past conversations and intercourse with deceased 
 friends in particular, the powers of remembrance greatly 
 improve by exercise. One revived idea produces another, 
 till the mind is most agreeably and usefully occupied with 
 lively and holy imaginations. 
 
 «' Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, 
 Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain ; 
 Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! 
 Each stamps its image as the other flies ; 
 Each, as the varied avenues of sense 
 Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, 
 Brightens or fades : yet all, with sacred art, 
 Control the latent fibres of tlie heart." 
 
 May it please God to bless, both to the reader and the 
 writer, this feeble attempt to recollect some of the com- 
 munications which I once enjoyed in my visits to the 
 Dairyman's dwelling ! 
 
 Very soon after the receipt of the last letter, I rode for 
 the first time to see the family at their own house. The 
 principal part of the road lay through retired, narrow 
 lanes, beautifully overarched with groves of nut and other 
 trees, which screened the traveller from the rays of the 
 Bun, and afforded many interesting objects for admiration 
 in the flowers, shrubs, and young trees, which grew upon 
 the high banks on each side of the road. Many grotesque 
 rocks, with little trickling streams of water occasionally 
 breaking out of them, varied the recluse scenery, and pro- 
 duced a romantic and pleasing effect. 
 
 Here and there the most distant prospect beyond was
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 43 
 
 observable through gaps and hollow places on the road- 
 side. Lofty hills, with navy signal-posts, obelisks, and 
 lighthouses on their summits, appeared at these intervals : 
 rich cornfields were also visible through some of the open 
 places ; and now and then, when the road ascended a hill, 
 the sea, with ships at various distances, was seen. But 
 for the most part shady seclusion, and objects of a more 
 minute and confined nature, gave a character to the jour- 
 ney, and invited contemplation. 
 
 How much do they lose who are strangers to serious 
 meditation on the wonders and beauties of nature ! How 
 gloriously the God of creation shines in his works ! Not 
 a tree, or leaf, or flower, not a bird or insect, but it pro- 
 claims in glowing language, " God made me." 
 
 As I approached the village where the good old Dairy- 
 man dwelt, I observed him in a little field, driving his 
 cows before him towards a yard and hovel which adjoined 
 his cottage. I advanced very near him without his observ- 
 ing me, for his sight was dim. On my calling out to him, 
 he started at the sound of my voice, but with much glad- 
 ness of heart welcomed me, saying — " Bless your heart, 
 sir, I am ^/ery glad you are come : we have looked for you 
 every day this week." 
 
 The cottage-door opened, and the daughter came out, 
 followed by her aged and infirm mother. The sight of me 
 naturally brought to recollection the grave at which we 
 had before met. Tears of afTection mingled with the 
 smile of satisfaction with which I was received by these 
 worthy cottagers. I dismounted, and was conducted tiirough 
 a neat little garden, part of which was shaded by two large 
 overspreading elm-trees, to the house. Decency and order 
 were manifest within and without. No excuse was made
 
 44 ■ THE DAIUYMAN's DAUGHTER. 
 
 here, du the score of poverty, for confusion and unclean- 
 liness in the disposal of their little household. Every 
 thing wore the aspect of neatness and propriety. On each 
 side of the fireplace stood an old oaken armchair, where 
 the venerable parents rested their weary limbs after the 
 day's labor was over. On a shelf in one corner lay two 
 Bibles, with a few religious books and tracts. The little 
 room had two windows ; a lovely prospect of hills, woods, 
 and fields, appeared through one ; the other was more 
 than half obscured by the branches of a vine which was 
 trained across it ; between its leaves the sun shone, and 
 cast a cheerful light over the whole place. 
 
 " This," thought I, " is a fit residence for piety, peace, 
 and contentment. May I learn a fresh lesson for ad- 
 vancement in each through the blessing of God on this 
 visit !" 
 
 " Sir," said the daughter, " we are not worthy that you 
 should come under our roof. We take it very kind that 
 you should travel so far to see us." 
 
 "My Master," I replied, "came a great deal further to 
 visit us poor sinners. He left the i)osom of his Father, 
 laid aside his glory, and came down to this lower world 
 on a visit of mercy and love ; and ought not we, if we 
 profess to follow him, tb bear each other's infirmities, and 
 go about doing good as he did ]" 
 
 Tiie old man now entered, and joined his wife and 
 daughter in giving me a cordial welcome. Our conversa- 
 tion soon turned to the loss they had so lately sustained. 
 The pious and sensible disposition of the daughter was 
 peculiarly manifested, as well in what she said to her 
 parents, as in what she more immediately addressed to 
 myself. I had now a further opportunity of remarking the
 
 THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 40 
 
 good sense and agreeable manner which accompanied her 
 expressions of devotedness to God, and love to Christ for 
 the greaX mercies which he had bestowed upon her. Dur- 
 ing her residence in different gentlemen's families where 
 she had been in service, she had acquired a superior be- 
 havior and address ; but sincere piety rendered her very 
 humble and unassuming in manner and conversation. 
 She seemed anxious to improve the opportunity of my visit 
 to the best purpose for her own and her parents' sake ; 
 yet there was nothing of unbecoming forwardness, no self- 
 confidence or conceitedness in her conduct. She united 
 the firmness and solicitude of the Christian with the mod- 
 esty of the female and the dutifulness of the daughter. 
 It was impossible to be in her company and not observe 
 how truly her temper and conversation adorned the prin- 
 ciples which she prolessed. 
 
 I soon discovered how eager and how successful also 
 she had been in her endeavors to bring her father and 
 mother to the knowledge and experience of the truth. 
 This is a lovely feature in the character of a young Chris- 
 tian. If it have pleased God in the free dispensation of 
 his mercy to call the child by his grace, while the parent 
 remains still in ignorance and sin, how great is the duty 
 incumbent on that child to do what is possible to promote 
 the conversion of those to whom so much is owing! 
 Happy is it when the ties of grace sanctify those of nature ! 
 
 The aged couple evidently regarded and spoke of this 
 daughter as their teacher and admonisher in divine things, 
 while at the same time they received from her every token 
 of filial submission and obedience, testified by continual 
 endeavors to serve and assist them to the utmost of her 
 power in the daily concerns of the household.
 
 4@ THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The religion of thi-s young woman was of a highly 
 spiritual character, and of no ordinary attainment. Her 
 views of the divine plan in saving the sinner were clear 
 and scriptural. She spoke much of the joys and sorrows 
 which, in the course of her religious progress, she had 
 experienced ; but she was fully sensible that there is far 
 more in real religion than mere occasional transition from 
 one frame of mind and spirits to another. She believed 
 that the experimental acquaintance of the heart with God 
 principally consisted in so living upon Christ by faith, as 
 to aim at living like him by love. She knew that the love 
 of God towards the sinner, and the path of duty prescribed 
 to the sinner, are both of an unchangeable nature. In a 
 believing dependance on the one, and an affectionate walk 
 in the other, she sought and found " the peace of God 
 which passeth all understanding ;" "for so he giveth his 
 beloved rest." 
 
 She had read but few books besides her Bible ; but these 
 few were excellent in their kind, and she spoke of their 
 contents as one who knew their value. In addition to a 
 Bible and Prayer-book, " Doddridge's Rise and Progress," 
 " Romaine's Life, Walk, and Triumph of Faith," "Bun- 
 yan's Pilgrim," "Alleine's Alarm," "Baxter's Saints' Ever- 
 lasting Rest," a hymA-book, and a few tracts, composed 
 her library. 
 
 I observed in her countenance a pale and delicate hue, 
 which I afterward found to be a presage of consumption ; 
 and the idea then occurred to me that she would not live 
 very long. 
 
 Time passed on swiftly with this interesting family ; 
 and after having partaken of some plain and wholesome 
 refreshment, and enjoyed a few hours' conversation with
 
 THE DAlfvYMAN's DAUGHTER. 47 
 
 them, I found it was necessary for me to return home- 
 ward. The disposition and character of the parties may 
 be in some sort ascertained by the expressions at parting. 
 
 " God send you safe home again," said the aged mother, 
 " and bless the day that brought you to see two poor old 
 creatures, such as we are, in our trouble and affliction. 
 Come again, sir, come again when you can ; and though 
 I am a poor ignorant soul, and not fit to talk to such a 
 gentleman as you, yet my dear child shall speak for me ; 
 she is the greatest comfort I have left, and I hope the good 
 Lord will spare her to support my trembling limbs and 
 feeble spirits, till I lie down with my other dear departed 
 children in the grave." 
 
 " Trust to the Lord," I answered, " and remember his 
 gracious promise ; ' Even to your old age I am he ; and 
 even to hoary hairs I will carry you.' " 
 
 " I thank you, sir," said the daughter, " for your Chris- 
 tian kindness to me and my friends. I believe the bless- 
 ing of the Lord has attended your visit, and I hope I have 
 experienced it to be so. My dear father and mother will, 
 I am sure, remember it ; and I rejoice in the opportunity 
 of seeing so kind a friend under this roof. My Saviour has 
 been abundantly good to me in plucking me 'as a brand 
 from the burning,' and showing me the way of life and 
 peace : and I hope it is my heart's desire to live to his 
 giory. But I long to see these dear friends enjoy the 
 power and comfort of religion likewise." 
 
 " I think it evident," I replied, " that the promise is 
 fulfilled in their case ; ' It shall come to pass, that at even- 
 ing time it shall be light' " 
 
 " I believe it," she sail, " and praise God for the blessed 
 hope."
 
 48 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 " Thank him too, that you have been the happy instru- 
 ment of bringing; them to the light." 
 
 " I do, sir : yet, when I think of my own unworthiness 
 and insufficiency, I rejoice with trembling." 
 
 " Sir," said the good old man, " I am sure the Lord will 
 reward you for this kindness. Pray for us, old as we are, 
 and sinners as we have been, that yet he would have mercy 
 upon us at the eleventh hour. Poor Betsy strives much 
 for our sakes, both in body and soul ; she works hard all 
 day to save us trouble, and I fear has not strength to sup- 
 port all she does ; and then she talks to us, and reads to 
 us, and pra}'s for us, that we may be saved from the wrath 
 to come. Indeed, sir, she's a rare child to us." 
 
 " Peace be to you, and to all that belong to you !" 
 
 " Amen, and thank you, dear sir," was echoed from each 
 tongue. 
 
 Thus we parted for that time. My returning medita- 
 tions were sweet, and, I hope, profitable. 
 
 Many other visits were afterward made by me to this 
 peaceful cottage, and I always found increasing reason to 
 thank God for the intercourse I there enjoyed. 
 
 An interval of some length occurred once during that 
 year, in which I had not seen the Dairyman's family. I 
 was reminded of the circumstance by the receipt of the 
 following letter. 
 
 " Rev. Sir, 
 
 " I have been expecting to see or hear from you for a 
 considerable time. Excuse the liberty I take in sending 
 you another letter. I have been confined to the house the 
 
 greater part of the time since I left . I took cold 
 
 that day, and have been worse ever since. I walk out a
 
 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. '& 
 
 little on these fine days, but seem to myself to walk very 
 near on the borders of eternity. Glory be to God, it is a 
 very pleasing prospect before me. Though I feel the 
 workings of sin, and am abased, yet Jesus shows his 
 mercy to be mine, and I trust that I am his. At such 
 times, 
 
 • My soul would leave this heavy clay 
 
 At his transporting word, 
 Run up with joy the shining way 
 
 To meet and prove the Lord. 
 
 Fearless of hell and ghastly death, 
 
 I'd break through every foe ; 
 The wings of love and arms of faith 
 Would bear me conqu'ror through.' 
 
 My desire is to live every moment to God, that I may, 
 through his grace, be kept in that heavenly, happy frame 
 of mind, that I shall wish for at the hour of death. We 
 cannot live nor die happy without this ; and to keep it, we 
 must be continually watching and praying : for we have 
 many enemies to disturb our peace. I am so very weak, 
 that now I can go nowhere to any outward means for that 
 help which is so refreshing to my spirit. 
 
 " I should have been very happy to have heard you last 
 
 Sunday, when you preached at : I could not walk so 
 
 far. I hope the word spoken by you was made a blessing 
 to many that heard it. It was my earnest prayer to God 
 that it might be so. But, alas ! once calling does not 
 awaken many that are in a sound sleep. Yet the voice of 
 God is sometimes very powerful, when his ministers 
 epeak ; when they are influenced by his Holy Spirit, and 
 are simple and sincere in holding forth the Word of Life. 
 5
 
 50 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Then it will teach us all things, and enlighten our mind, 
 and reveal unto us the hidden things of darkness, and give 
 us out of that divine treasure ' things new and old.' Rest- 
 ing on God to work in us both to will and to do of his own 
 good pleasure, we ought always to work as diligent ser- 
 vants, that know they have a good Master, that will surely 
 not forget their labor of love. 
 
 " If we could but fix our eyes always on that crown of 
 glory that awaits us in the skies, we should never grow 
 weary in well-doing ; but should run with patience, and 
 delight in the work and ways of God, where he appoints 
 us. We should not then, as we too frequently do, suffer 
 these tritiing objects here on earth to draw away cur minds 
 ^rom God, to rob him of his glory, and our souls of that 
 Happiness and comfort which the believer may enjoy 
 amidst outward afflictions. If we thus lived more by faith in 
 the Son of God, we should endeavor to stir up all, whom 
 we could, to seek after God. We should tell them what 
 he has done for us, and what he would do for them, if they 
 truly sought him. We should show them what a glorious ex- 
 pectation there is for all true believers and sincere seekers. 
 
 " When our minds are so fixed on God, we are more 
 desirous of glorifying him, in making known his goodness 
 to us, than the proud rich man is of getting honor to him- 
 self. I mourn over my own backwardness to this exercise 
 of duty when I think of God's willingness to save the 
 vilest of the vile, according to the dispensations of his 
 eternal grace and mercy. O ! how amiable, how lovely 
 does this make that God of love appear to poor sinners, 
 that can view him as such. How is the soul delighted 
 with such a contemplation ! They that have much for- 
 given, how much they love !
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 51 
 
 " These thoughts have been much on my mind since the 
 
 death of . I trust the Lord will pardon me for neglect. 
 
 I thought it was my duty to speak or write to him ; you 
 remember what I said to you respecting it. But I still 
 delayed till a more convenient season. O ! how I was 
 struck when I heard the Lord had taken him so suddenly. 
 I was filled with sorrow and shame for having neglected 
 what I had so often resolved to do. But now the time of 
 speaking for God to him was over. Hence we see that 
 the Lord's time is the best time. Now the night of death 
 was come upon him ; no more work was to be done. If 
 I had done all that lay in my power to proclaim reconcili- 
 ation by Christ to his soul, whether he had heard or no, I 
 should have been clear of his blood. But I cannot recall 
 the time that is past, nor him from the grave. Had I 
 known the Lord would have called him so suddenly, how- 
 diligent I should have been to warn him of his danger ! 
 But it is enough that God shows us what we are to do, and 
 not what he is about to do with us or any of his creatures. 
 Pray, sir, do all you can for the glory of God. The time 
 will soon pass by, and then we shall enter that glorious 
 rest that he hath prepared for them that love him. I 
 )5)ray God to fill you with that zeal and love, which 
 only can inspire, that you may daily win souls to Christ. 
 May he deliver you from all slavish fear of man, and give 
 you boldness, as he did of old those that were filled with 
 »he Holy Ghost and with power ! 
 
 " Remember, Christ hath promised to be with all his 
 faithful ministers to the end of time. The greater dan- 
 ijers and difficulties they are exposed to, the more power- 
 ful his assistance. Then, sir, let us fear none but him. 
 K hope you will pray much for me a poor sinner, that God
 
 52 THE dairyman's daughtek. 
 
 will perfect his strength in my weakness of body and 
 mind. For without him I can do nothing. But when I 
 can experience the teaching of that Holy One, I need no 
 other teacher. May the Lord anoint you with the same, 
 and give you every grace of his Holy Spirit, that you 
 may be filled with all the fulness of God ; that you may 
 know what is the height and depth, the length and breadth 
 of the love of God in Christ Jesus : that you may be in 
 the hand of the Lord, as a keen archer to draw the bow, 
 while the Lord directs and fastens the arrows of convic- 
 tion in the hearts of such as are under your ministry ! 
 
 " I sincerely pray that you may be made a blessing to 
 him that has taken the place of the deceased. I have 
 heard that you are fellow-countrymen : I hope you are, 
 however, both as strangers in this world, that have no 
 abiding place, but seek a country out of sight. 
 " Pray excuse all faults, from 
 
 your humble servant in the 
 
 bonds of the Gospel of Christ, 
 " E W ." 
 
 When I perused this and other letters, which were at 
 different times written to me by the Dairyman's daughter, 
 I felt .that, in the person of this interesting correspondent, 
 were singularly united the characters of an humble dis- 
 ciple and a faithful monitor. I wished to acknowledge the 
 goodness of God in each of these her capacities. 
 
 I sometimes entertain a hope that the last day will un- 
 fold tiie value of these epistolary communications, beyond 
 even any present e 5timate of their spiritUcJ importance.
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 53 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 The translation of sinners " from the power of dark- 
 ness into the kingdom of God's dear Son," is the joy of 
 Christians and the admiration of angels. Every penitent 
 and pardoned soul is a new witness to the triumphs of the 
 Redeemer over sin, death, and the grave. How great the 
 change that is wrought ! The child of wrath becomes a 
 monument of grace — a brand plucked from the burning ! 
 " If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature : old 
 things are passed away ; behold, all things are become 
 new." How marvellous, how interesting, is the spiritual 
 history of each individual believer ! He is, like David, 
 " a wonder to many," but the greatest wonder of all to 
 himself. Others may doubt whether it be so or not ; but 
 to him it is unequivocally proved, that, from first to last, 
 grace alone reigns in the work of his salvation. 
 
 The character and privileges of real Christians are 
 beautifully described in the language of our church : who, 
 when speaking of the objects of divine favor and compas- 
 sion, says : " They that be endued with so excellent a 
 benefit of God, be called according to God's purpose in due 
 season : they through grace obey the calling : they be jus- 
 tified freely : they be made sons of God by adoption : they 
 be made like the image of his only begotten Son, Jesus 
 Christ : they walk religiously in good works ; and at length 
 by God's mercy they attain to everlasting felicity." 
 
 Such a conception and display of the Almighty wisdom, 
 power, and love, is indeed "full of sweet, pleasant, and 
 unspeakable comfort to godly persons, and such as feel 
 5*
 
 51 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 in themselves the working of the Spirit of Christ mortify- 
 ing the works of the flesh, and their earthly members ; 
 and drawing up their minds to high and heavenly things : 
 it doth greatly establish and confirm their faith of eternal 
 salvation, to be enjoyed through Christ, and doth fervently 
 kindle their love towards God." 
 
 Nearly allied to the consolation of a good hope through 
 grace, as it respects our own personal state before God, 
 is that of seeing its evidences shed lustre over the dispo- 
 sition and conduct of others. Bright was the exhibition 
 of the union between true Christian enjoyment and Chris- 
 tian exertion, in the character whose moral and spiritual 
 features I am attempting to delineate. 
 
 It seemed to be the first wish of her heart to prove to 
 others what God had already proved to her, that Jesus is 
 "the way, and the truth, and the life." She desired to 
 evince the reality of her calling, justification, and adop- 
 tion into the family of God, by showing a conformity to the 
 image of Christ, and by walking "religiously in good 
 works :" she trusted, that, in this path of faith and obe- 
 dience, she should " at length, by God's mercy, attain to 
 everlasting felicity." 
 
 I had the spiritual charge of another parish, adjoining 
 to that in which I resrded. It was a small district, and 
 had but few inhabitants. The church was pleasantly 
 situated on a rising bank, at the foot of a considerable 
 hill. It was surrounded by trees, and had a rural, retired 
 appearance. Close to the churchyard stood a large old 
 mansion, which had formerly been the residence of an 
 opulent and titled family ; but it had long since been ap- 
 propriated to the use of the estate as a farm-house. Its 
 outward aspect bore considerable remaizis of ancient
 
 THE DAIRY3IAN's DArGHTER. 55 
 
 grandeur, and gave a pleasing character to the spot of 
 ground on which the church stood. 
 
 In every direction the roads that led to this house of 
 God possessed distinct but interesting features. One of 
 them ascended between several rural cottages, from the 
 seashore, which adjoined the lower part of the village 
 street. Another winded round the curved sides of the 
 adjacent hill, and was adorned both above and below with 
 numerous sheep, feeding on the herbage of the down. A 
 third road led to the church by a gently rising approach, 
 between high banks, covered with young trees, bushes, 
 ivy, hedge-plants, and wild flowers. 
 
 From a point of land which commanded a view of all 
 these several avenues, I used sometimes for a while to 
 watch my congregation gradually assembling together at 
 the hour of Sabbath worship. They were in some direc- 
 tions visible for a considerable distance. Gratifying 
 associations of thought would form in my mind, as I con- 
 templated their approach, and successive arrival, within 
 the precincts of the house of prayer. 
 
 One day, as I was thus occupied, during a short inter- 
 val previous to the hour of divine service, I reflected on 
 the joy which David experienced, at the time he exclaim- 
 ed : "1 was glad, when they said unto me. Let us go into 
 the house of the Lord. Our feet shall stand within thy 
 gates, O Jerusalem. Jerusalem is builded as a city that 
 is compact together ; whither the tribes go up, the tribes 
 of the Lord, unto the testimony of Israel, to give thanks 
 unto the name of the Lord." 
 
 I was led to reflect upon the various blessings connect- 
 ed with the establishment of public worship. " How 
 many immortal souls are now gathering together to per-
 
 56 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 form the all-important work of prayer and praise — to hear 
 the word of God — to feed upon the bread of life ! They 
 are leaving their respective dwellings, and will soon be 
 united together in the house of prayer. How beautifully 
 does this represent the effect produced by the voice of 
 *the Good Shepherd,' calling his sheep from every part of 
 the wilderness into his fold ! As these fields, hills, and 
 lanes, are now covered with men, women, and children, in 
 various directions, drawing nearer to each other, and to 
 the object of their journey's end ; even so, many shall 
 come from the east, and from the west, and from the north, 
 and from the south, and shall sit down in the kingdom of 
 God.' " 
 
 Who can rightly appreciate the value of such hours as 
 these 1 — hours spent in learning the ways of holy plea- 
 santness and the paths of heavenly peace — hours devoted 
 to the service of God and of souls ; in warning the sinner 
 to flee from the wrath to come ; in teaching the ignorant 
 how to live and die ; in preaching the Gospel to the poor ; 
 in healing the broken-hearted ; in declaring " deliverance 
 to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind." — 
 " Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound : they 
 shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance. In 
 thy name shall they rejoice all the day, and in thy righte- 
 ousness shall they be exalted." 
 
 My thoughts then pursued a train of reflection on the 
 importance of the ministerial office, as connected in the 
 purposes of God with the salvation of sinners. I inwardly 
 prayed that those many individuals whom he had given 
 me to instruct, might not, through my neglect or error, be 
 as sheep having no shepherd, nor as the blind led by the 
 blind : but rather that I might in season and out of season
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 57 
 
 faithfully proclaim the simple and undisguised truths of 
 the Gospel, to the glory of God and the prosperity of his 
 church. 
 
 At that instant, near the bottora of the enclosed lane 
 which led to the churchyard, I observed a friend, whom, 
 at such a distance from his own home, I little expected to 
 meet. It was the venerable Dairyman. He came up the 
 ascent, leaning with one hand on his trusty staff, and with 
 the other on the arm of a younger man, well known to 
 me, who appeared to be much gratified in meeting with 
 such a companion by the way. 
 
 My station was on the top of one of the banks which 
 formed the hollow road beneath. They passed a few 
 yards below me. I was concealed from their sight by a 
 projecting tree. They were talking of the mercies of 
 God, and the unsearchable riches of his grace. The Dai- 
 ryman was telling his companion what a blessing the Lord 
 had given him in his daughter. His countenance bright- 
 ened as he named her, and called her his precious Betsy. 
 
 I met them at a stile not many yards beyond, and ac- 
 companied them to the church, which was hard by. 
 
 " Sir," said the old man, " I have brought a letter from 
 my daughter — I hope I am in time for divine service. 
 Seven miles is now become a long walk for me : I grow 
 old and weak — I am very glad to see you, sir." 
 
 " How is your daughter ]" 
 
 " Very poorly indeed, sir ? very poorly — the doctors say 
 it is a decline. I sometimes hope she will get the better 
 of it ; but then again I have many fears. You know, sir, 
 that I have cause to love and prize her. O ! it would be 
 such a trial ; but the Lord knows what is best. Excuse 
 my weakness, sir."
 
 68 THE dairyman's daughter 
 
 He put a letter into my hand, the perusal of which I 
 reserved till afterward, as the time was nigh for going 
 into church. 
 
 The presence of this aged pilgrim, the peculiar rever- 
 ence and affection with which he joined in the different 
 parts of the service, excited many gratifying thoughts in 
 my mind ; such as rather furthered than interrupted de- 
 votion. 
 
 The train of reflection in which I had been engaged, 
 when I first discovered him on the road, at intervals re- 
 curred powerfully to my feelings, as I viewed that very 
 congregation assembled together in the house of God, 
 whose steps, in their approach towards it, I had watched 
 with prayerful emotions. 
 
 " Here the rich and poor meet together in mutual 
 acknowledgment, that the Lord is the Maker of them all ; 
 and that all are alike dependent creatures, looking up to 
 one common Father to supply their wants, both temporal 
 and spiritual. 
 
 " Again, likewise, will they meet together in the grave, 
 that undistinguished receptacle of the opulent and the 
 needy. 
 
 "And once more, at the judgment-seat of Christ shall 
 the rich and the poor meet together, that ' every one may 
 receive the things done in his body, according to that he 
 hath done, whether it be good or bad.' 
 
 " How closely connected in the history of man are these 
 three periods of a general meeting together ! 
 
 " The house of prayer — the house appointed for all liv- 
 ing — and the house not made with hands, eternal in the 
 heavens. May we never separate these ideas from each 
 other, but retain them in a sacred and profitable union !
 
 THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 09 
 
 So shall our worshipping assemblies on eartl be represen- 
 tative of the general assembly and church of the first-bom, 
 which are written in heaven." 
 
 When the congregation dispersed, I entered into dis 
 course with the Dairyman and a few of the poor of my 
 flock, whose minds were of like disposition to his own. 
 He seldom could speak long together without some refer- 
 ence to his dear child. He loved to tell how merciful 
 his God had been to him, in the dutiful and affectionate 
 attentions of his daughter. All real Christians feel a ten- 
 der spiritual attachment towards those who have been the 
 instrument of bringing them to an effectual knowledge of 
 the way of salvation : but when that instrument is one so 
 nearly allied, how dear does the relationship become ! 
 
 If my friend the Dairyman was in any danger of falling 
 into idolatry, his child would have been the idol of his af- 
 fections. She was the prop and stay of her parents' 
 declining years, and they scarcely know how sufficiently 
 to testify the gratitude of their hearts, for the comfort and 
 bleseipg which she was the means of affording them. 
 
 While he was relating several particulars of his family 
 history to the others, I opened and read the following letter. 
 
 "Sir, 
 
 " Once more I take the liberty to trouble you with a 
 few lines. I received your letter with great pleasure, 
 and thank you for it. I am now so weak, that 1 am una- 
 ble to walk to any public place of divine worship, a privi- 
 lege which has heretofore always so much strengthened 
 and refreshed me. I used to go in anxious expectation 
 to meet my God, and hold sweet communion with him, 
 and I was seldom disappointed. In the means of grace,
 
 00 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 all the channels of divine mercy are open to every heart 
 that is lifted up to receive out of that divine fulness grace 
 for grace. These are the times of refreshing from the 
 presence of the Lord. How have I rejoiced to hear a 
 faithful and lively messenger, just come, as it were, from 
 communion with God at the throne of grace, with his 
 heart warmed and filled with divine love, to speak to fallen 
 sinners ! Such a one has seemed to me as if his face 
 shone as that of Moses did with the glory of God, when 
 he came down from the mount ; where he had been within 
 the vail. May you, sir, imitate him, as he did Christ, that 
 all may see and know that the Lord dwelleth with you, 
 and that you dwell in him through the unity of the blessed 
 Spirit. I trust you are no stranger to his divine teaching, 
 aid, and assistance, in all you set your hand to do for the 
 glory of God. 
 
 " I hope, sir, the sincerity of my wishes for your spirit- 
 ual welfare will plead an excuse for the freedom of my 
 address to you. I pray the Giver of every perfect gift, 
 that you may experience the mighty workings of his gra- 
 cious Spirit in your heart and your ministry, and rest your 
 all on the j,ustifying and purifying blood of an expiring 
 Redeemer. Then will you triumph in his strength, and 
 be enabled to say with the poet : — 
 
 • Shall I through fear of feeble men 
 The Spiiit's course strive to restrain 1 
 Or, undismay'd in deed and word, 
 Be a true witness for my Lord ? 
 
 Aw'd by a mortal's frown, shall 1 
 Conceal the word of God most high 1 
 How then before thee shall I dare 
 To fatand, or how thine anger bear 1
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTrR. 6131 
 
 ♦ Shall I. to soothe tli' unholy throng, 
 Soften thy truths and smooth my Dngue 
 To gain earth's gilded toys, or flee 
 The cross endur'd, my God, by thje? 
 
 « What then is he, whose scorn I dread 1 
 Whose wrath or hate makes me afraid ? 
 A man 1 an heir of death ? a slave 
 To sin, a bubble on the wave ? 
 
 « Yea, let men rage, since thou wilt spread 
 Thy shadowing wings around my head : 
 Since in all pain thy tender love 
 Will still my sure refreshment prove. 
 
 ' Still shall the love of Christ constrain 
 To seek the wand'ring souls of men, 
 With cries, entreaties, tears to save. 
 And snatch them from the yawning grave. 
 
 « For this let men revile my name. 
 No cross I shun, I fear no shame : 
 All hail reproach, and welcome pain, 
 Only thy terrors, Lord, restrain.' 
 
 " I trust, sir, that you see what a glorious high calling 
 yours is, and that you are- one of those who walk humbly 
 with God, that you may be taught of him in all things. 
 Persons in ycur place are messengers of the most high 
 God. Is it too much to say, they should live like the 
 angels in all holiness, and be filled with love and zeal for 
 men's souls 1 They are ambassadors, in Christ's stead, to 
 persuade sinners to be reconciled to God. So that your 
 calling is above that of any;els : for they are afterward to 
 minister to the heirs of sal nation ; but the sinner must be 
 first reconciled to God. And you are called on from day 
 to day to intercede with man as his friend, that you may 
 6
 
 62 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 win souls to Christ. Christ is ascended up on high, to 
 intercede with his Father for guihy sinners, and to plead 
 for them the merits of his death. So that Christ and his 
 faithful ministers, through the operation of the hlessed 
 Spirit, are co-workers together. Yet, without him we 
 can do nothing ; our strength is his strength, and his is 
 all the glory from first to last. 
 
 " It is my heart's prayer and desire, sir, that you may, 
 by a living faith, cleave close to that blessed exalted Lamb 
 of God, who died to redeem us from sin — that you may 
 have a sweet communion with Father, Son, and Spirit — 
 that you may sink deep in humble love, and rise high in 
 the life of God. Thus will you have such discoveries of 
 the beauties of Christ and his eternal glory, as will fill 
 your heart with true delight. 
 
 " If I am not deceived, I wish myself to enjoy his gra- 
 cious favor, more than all the treasures which earth can 
 afford. I would in comparison look upon them with holy 
 disdain, and as not worth an anxious thought, that they 
 may not have power on my heart, to draw or attract it 
 from God, who is worthy of my highest esteem, and of ail 
 my alTections. It should be our endeavor to set him alway 
 before us, that in all things we may act as in his imme- 
 diate presence : that we may be filled with that holy fear, 
 so that we may not dare wilfully to sin against him. We 
 should earnestly entreat the Lord to mortify the power 
 and working of sin and unbelief within us, by making 
 Christ appear more and more precious in our eyes, and 
 more dear to our hearts. 
 
 " It fills my heart with thankful recollections, while I 
 attempt in this weak manner to speak of God's love to 
 man. When I reflect on my past sins and his past mer-
 
 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. Od 
 
 cies, I am assured, that if I had all the gifts of wise men 
 and angels, I could never sufficiently describe my own in- 
 ward sense of his undeserved love towards me. We can 
 better enjoy these glorious apprehensions in our hearts, 
 tlian explain them to others. But, O ! how unworthy of 
 then] all are we ! Consciousness of my own corruptions 
 keeps me often low ; yet faith and desire will easily mount 
 on high, beseeching God that he would, according to the 
 Apostle's prayer, fill me with all his communicable fulness, 
 in the gifts and graces of his Spirit ; that I may walk 
 well-pleasing before him, in all holy conversation, perfect- 
 ing lioliness in his fear. 
 
 " If I err in boldness, sir, pray pardon me, and in your 
 next letter confirm my hope, that you will be my counsel- 
 lor and guide. 
 
 ** I can only recompense your kindness to me by my 
 prayers, that your own intercourse with God may be abun- 
 dantly blessed to you and yours. I consider the Saviour 
 Baying to you, as he did to Peter, ' Lovest thou me V And 
 may your heartfelt experience be compelled to reply, 
 * Thou knowest all things, and thou knowest that I love 
 thee' supremely. May he have evident marks of it in all 
 your outward actions of love and humanity, in feeding his 
 flock, and in the inward fervor and affection of all your 
 consecrated powers : that you may be zealously engaged in 
 pulling down the strongholds of sin and Satan, and build- 
 ing up his church ; sowing the seeds of righteousness, 
 and praying God to give the increase — that you may not 
 labor for him in vain ; but may see the trees bud and blos- 
 som, and bring forth fruit abundantly, to the praise and 
 glory of your heavenly Master. In order to give you en- 
 couragement, he says, whosoever 'converteth a sinner
 
 ^ THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 from the errur of his way, shall save a soul from death ;* 
 and that will increase the brightness of your crown in 
 glory. This hath Christ merited for his faithful ministers. 
 
 " I hope, sir, you will receive grace to be sincere in 
 reproving sin, wherever you see it. You will find divine 
 assistance, and all fear and .shame taken from you. Great 
 peace will be given to you, and wisdom, strength, and 
 courage, according to your work. You will be as Paul ; 
 having much learning, you can speak to men in all sta- 
 tions in life, by God's assistance. The fear of offending 
 them will never prevent you, when you consider the glory 
 of God ; and man's immortal soul is of more value than 
 his present favor and esteem. In particular, you are in an 
 office wherein you can visit all the sick. Man's extremity 
 is often God's opportunity. In this way you may prove 
 an instrument in his hand to do his work. Although he can 
 work without means, yet his usual way is by means : and 
 I trust you are a chosen vessel unto him, to prove his 
 name and declare his truth to all men. 
 
 " Visiting the sick is a strict command, and a duty for 
 every Christian. None can tell what good may be done. 
 I wish it was never neglected, as it too often is. Many 
 think, that if they attend in the church, the minister to 
 preach, and the people to hear, their duty is done. But 
 more is required than this. May the Lord stir i;p the 
 gift that is in his people and ministers, that they may have 
 compassion on their fellow-sinners, that they may never 
 think it too late, but remember, that, while there is life, 
 there is hope. 
 
 " Once more, I pray, sir, pardon and excuse all my 
 errors in judgment, and the ignorance that this is penned 
 in ; and may God bless you in all things, and particularly
 
 THE dairyman's LAUGHTER. 65 
 
 your friendship to me and my parents. What a com- 
 fort is family religion ! I do not doubt but this is your 
 desire, as it is mine, to say, 
 
 • I and my house will serve the Lord, 
 But first obedient to his word 
 
 I must myself appear: 
 By actions, words, and tempers show, 
 That I my heavenly Master know, 
 And serve with heart sincere. 
 
 ' I must tlie fair example set, 
 From those that on my pleasure wait 
 
 The stumbling-block remove; 
 Their duty by my life explain. 
 And still in all my works maintain 
 The dignity of love. 
 
 « Easy to be entreated, mild, 
 Quickly appeas'd and reconciled, 
 
 A follower of my God: 
 A saint indeed I long to be, 
 And lead my faithful family 
 
 In the celestial road. 
 
 *Lord, if thou dost the wwh infuse, 
 A vessel fitted for thy use 
 
 Into thy hands receive: 
 Work yj me both to will and do, 
 And show them how believers true 
 
 And real Christians live. 
 
 ' With al'-sufiicient grace supply. 
 And then I'll come to testify 
 
 The wonders of thy name, 
 Which saves from sin, the world, and hell: 
 Its power may every sinner feel, 
 
 And every tongue proclaim ! 
 
 «C!eans'd by the blood of Christ from ain, 
 I seek my relatives to win, 
 
 6*
 
 09 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 
 
 And preach their sins forgiven: 
 Children, and wife, and ser\-ants seize, 
 And throu<rh the paths of pleasantness, 
 Conduct tliem all to heaven.' 
 
 " Living so much in a solitary way, books are my com- 
 panions ; and poetry, which speaks of the love of God 
 and the mercies of Christ, is very sweet to my mind. 
 This must be my excuse for troublinor you to read verses 
 which others have written, I have intended, if my decli- 
 ning state of health permit, to go to for a few days. 
 
 I say this, lest you should call in expectation of seeing 
 me, during any part of next week. But my dear father 
 and mother, for whose precious souls I am very anxious, 
 will reap the benefit of your visit at all events. From 
 " Your humble and unworthy servant, 
 
 " E W-^." 
 
 Having read it, I said to the father of my highly valued 
 correspondent, 
 
 " I thank you for being the bearer of this letter : your 
 daughter is a kind friend and faithful counsellor to me, as 
 well as to you. Tell her how highly I esteem her friend- 
 ship, and that I feel truly obliged for the many excellent 
 sentiments which sheOias here expressed. Give her my 
 blessing, and assure her that the oftener she writes, the 
 more thankful I shall be." 
 
 The Dairyman's enlivened eye gleamed with pleasure 
 as I spoke. The praise of his Elizabeth was a string 
 which could not be touched without causing every nerve 
 of his whole frame to vibrate. 
 
 His voice half faltered, as he spoke in reply : the tear 
 started in his eyes ; his hand trembled, as I pressed it ; 
 his heart was full ; he could only say —
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 67 
 
 " Sir, a poor old man thanks you for your kindness to 
 him and his family : God bless you, sir ; I hope we shall 
 soon see you again." 
 
 Thus we parted for that day. 
 
 PART V. 
 
 It has not unfrequently been observed that when it is 
 the Lord's pleasure to remove any of his faithful followers 
 out of this life at an early period of their course, they 
 make rapid progress in the experience of divine truth. 
 The fruits of the Spirit ripen fast, as they advance to the 
 close of mortal existence. In particular, they grow in 
 humility, through a deeper sense of inward corruption, 
 and a clearer view of the perfect character of the Saviour. 
 Disease and bodily weakness make the thoughts of eter- 
 nity recur with frequency and power. The great ques- 
 tion of their own personal salvation, the quality of their 
 faith, the sincerity of their love, and the purity of their 
 hope, is in continual exercise. 
 
 Unseen realities, at such a time, occupy a larger por- 
 tion of thought than befoie. The state of existence be- 
 yond the grave, the invisible world, the unaltered charac- 
 ter of the dead, the future judgment, the total separation 
 from every thing earthly, the dissolution of body and spirit, 
 and their reunion at the solemn hour of resurrection, — 
 these are subjects for their meditation, which call for ear- 
 nestness of soul. Whatever consolations from the Spirit
 
 G&^ THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 of God they may have enjoyed heretofore, they become 
 now doubly anxious to examine and prove themselves, 
 " whether they be indeed in the faith." In doing this they 
 sometimes pass through hidden conflicts of a dark and dis- 
 tressing nature ; from which, however, they come forth, 
 like gold tried in the furnace. Awhile they may sow in 
 tears, but soon they reap in joy. 
 
 Their religious feelings have then, perhaps, less of ec- 
 stacy, but more of serenity. 
 
 As the ears of corn ripen for the harvest, they bow their 
 heads nearer to the ground. So it is with believers ; they 
 then see more than ever of their own imperfection, and 
 often express their sense of it in strong language ; yet 
 they repose with a growing confidence on the love of God 
 through Christ Jesus. The nearer they advance to their 
 eternal rest, the more humble they become, but not the 
 less useful in their sphere. They feel anxiously desirous 
 of improving every talent they possess, to the glory of 
 God, knowing that the time is short. 
 
 I thought I observed the truth of these remarks ful- 
 filled in the progressive state of mind of the Dairyman's 
 daughter. 
 
 Declining health seemed to indicate the will of God con- 
 cerning/ her. But her character, conduct, and experience 
 of the divine favor, increased in brightness as the setting 
 Bun of her mortal life approached its horizon. The last 
 letter which, with the exception of a very short note, I 
 ever received from- her, I shall now transcribe. It ap- 
 peared to me to bear the marks of a still deeper acquaint- 
 ance with the workings of her own heart, and a more entire 
 reliance upon the free mercy of God. 
 
 The original, while I copy it, strongly revives the image
 
 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 0» 
 
 of the deceased, and the many profitable lonversations 
 which I once enjoyed in her company, and that of her 
 parents. It again endears to me the recollections of cot- 
 tage piety, and helps me to anticipate the joys of that day, 
 when the spirits of the glorified saints shall be reunited 
 to their bodies, and be for ever with the Lord. 
 
 The writer of this and the preceding letters herself 
 little imagined, when they were penned, that they would 
 ever be submitted to the public eye : that they now ar^ 
 so, results from a conviction that the friends of the pious 
 poor will estimate them according to their value ; and a 
 hope that it may please God to honor these memorials of 
 the dead, to the effectual edification of the living. 
 
 " Rev. Sir, 
 
 " In consequence of your kind permission, I take the 
 liberty to trouble you with another of my ill-written let- 
 ters ; and I trust you have too much of your blessed Mas- 
 ter's lowly, meek, and humble mind, to be offended with 
 a poor, simple, ignorant creature, whose intentions are 
 pure and sincere in writing. My desire is, that I, a weak 
 vessel of his grace, may glorify his name for his goodness 
 towards me. May the Lord direct me by his counsel and 
 wisdom ! May he overshadow me with his presence ; 
 that I may sit beneath the banner of his love, and find the 
 ' consolations of his blessed Spirit sweet and refreshing to 
 my soul ! 
 
 " When I feel that I am nothing, and God is all in all, 
 then I can willingly fly to him, saying, ' Lord, help me ; 
 Lord, teach me ; be untc me my Prophet, Priest, and 
 King. Let me know the teaching of thy grace, and the 
 disclosing of thy love.* What nearness of a*xess might
 
 70 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 we have if we lived more near to God ! What sweet 
 communion might we have with a God of love ! He is 
 the great I AM. How glorious a name ! Angels with 
 trembling awe prostrate themselves before him, and in 
 humble love adore and worship him. One says, 
 
 ' While Uie first archangel sings, 
 He hides his face behind his winps.' 
 
 Unworthy as I am, I have found it by experience, that the 
 more I see of the greatness and goodness of God, and the 
 nearer union I hope I have had with him through the 
 Spirit of his love, ihe more humble and self-abased I 
 have been. 
 
 " But every day I may say, ' Lord, how little I love 
 thee, how far I live from thee, how little am I like thee in 
 humility !' It is nevertheless my heart's desire to love 
 and ser\e him better. I find the way in which God does 
 more particularly bless me, is when I attend on the public 
 ordinances of religion. These are the channels through 
 which he conveys the riches of his grace and precious love 
 to my soul. These I have often found to be indeed the 
 time of refreshing and strengthening from the presence 
 of the Lord. Then lean see my hope of an interest in 
 the covenant of his love, and praise him for his mercy to 
 the greatest of sinners. 
 
 " I earnestly wish to be more established in his ways, 
 and to honor him in the path of duty, whilst I enjoy the 
 smiles of his favor. In the midst of all outward afflic- 
 tions I pray that I may know Christ, and the power of his 
 resurrection within my soul. If I were always thus, my 
 summer would last all the year ; my will would then be 
 sweetly lost in God's will, and I should feel a resignation 
 in every dispensation of his providence and his grace, saying.
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 71 
 
 ' Good is the will of the Lord : Infinite Wisdom cannot 
 err.' Then would patience have its perfect work. 
 
 " But, alas ! sin and unbelief often, too often, interrupt 
 these frames, and lay me low before God in tears of sor- 
 row. I often think what a happiness it would be, if his 
 love were so fixed in my heart, that I might willingly obey 
 him with alacrity and delight, and gradually mortify the 
 power of self-will, passion, and pride. This can only arise 
 from a good hope through grace, that we are washed in 
 that precious blood which cleanses us from every sinful 
 stain, and makes us new crentures in Christ. O that we 
 may be the happy witnesses of the saving power and virtue 
 of that healing stream wnich flows from the fountain of 
 everlasting love ! 
 
 " Sir, my faith is often exceedingly weak : can you be 
 BO kind as to tell me, what you have found to be the most 
 effectual means of strengthening it ] I often think how 
 plainly the Lord declares, Believe only, and thou shalt be 
 saved. Only have faith ; all things are possible to him 
 that has it. How I wish that we could remove all those 
 mountains that hinder and obstruct the light of his grace ; 
 80 that having full access unto God through that ever- 
 blessed Spirit, we might lovingly commune with him as 
 with the dearest of friends. What favor does God bestow 
 on worms ! And yet we love to murmur and complain. 
 He may well say. What should I have done more, that I 
 have not done 1 or wherein have I proved unfaithful or 
 unkind to my faithless backsliding children 1 
 
 *• Sir, I pray that I may not grieve him, as I have done, 
 any more. I want your counsel and your prayers for me 
 in this matter. How refreshing is the sight of one that 
 truly loves Gcd, that bears his image and likeness !
 
 72 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 " But delightful as is conversation with true oelievers 
 on earth, whose hearts are lifted up to things above, yet 
 what is this to that happy day which will admit us into 
 more bright realms ; where we shall for ever behold a 
 God of love in the smiling face of his Son, who is the ex- 
 press image of his Father and the brightness of his glory! 
 Then, if found in him, we shall be received by the innu- 
 merable host of angels who wait around his throne. 
 
 " In the mean time, sir, may I take up my cross, and 
 manfully fight under Him, who for the glory that was set 
 before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is 
 now set down at his Father's right hand in majesty ! I 
 thank you for the kind liberty you have given me of wri- 
 ting to you. I feel my health declining, and I find a relief 
 during an hour of pain and weakness in communicating 
 these thoughts to you. 
 
 " I hope, sir, you go on your way rejoicing ; that you 
 are enabled to thank Him who is the Giver of every good 
 gift, spiritual, temporal, and providential, for blessings to 
 yourself and your ministry. I do not doubt but you often 
 meet with circumstances, which are not pleasing to na- 
 ture, yet, by the blessing of God, they will be all profit- 
 able in the end. They are kindly designed by grace to 
 make and keep us humble. The difficulties which you 
 spoke of to me some time since will, I trust, disappear. 
 
 " My dear father and mother are as well as usual in 
 bodily health, and I hope grow in grace, and in the know- 
 ledge and lave of Jesus Christ. My chief desire to live 
 is for their sakes. It now seems long since we have seen 
 you. I am almost ashamed to request you to come to our 
 little cottage to visit those who are so much belwv your 
 station in life. But if you cannot come, we shall be very
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 73 
 
 glad if you will write a few lines. I oug'iit to make an 
 excuse for my letter, I spell so badly : this was a great, 
 neglect when I was young. I gave myself greatly tO' 
 reading, but not to the other, and now I am too weak and' 
 feeble to learn much. 
 
 " I hear sometimes of persons growing serious in your 
 congregation. It gives me joy, and if true, I am sure it 
 does so to yourself. I long for the pure Gospel of Christ 
 to be preached in every church in the world, and for the 
 time when all shall know, love, and fear the Lord ; and 
 the uniting Spirit of God shall make them of one heart and 
 mind in Christ our great Head. Your greatest joy, I know, 
 will be in laboring much for the glory of God in the sal- 
 vation of men's souls. You serve a good Master. You 
 have a sure reward. I pray God to give you strength ac- 
 cording to your day. 
 
 " Pray, sir, do not be offended at the freedom and man- 
 ner of my writing. My parents' duty and love to you are^ 
 sent with these lines, from 
 
 "Your humble servant in Christ, 
 
 "E W ."• 
 
 Epistolary communications, when written in sincerity 
 of heart, afford genuine portraits of the mind. May the 
 foregoing be viewed with Christian candor, and conse- 
 crated to affectionate memory ! 
 7
 
 74 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 PART VI. 
 
 Travellers, as they pass through the country, usually 
 stop to inquire whose are the splendid mansions which 
 they discover among the woods and plains around them. 
 The families, titles, fortune, or character of the respective 
 ■owners, engage much attention. Perhaps their houses are 
 •exhibited to the admiring stranger. The elegant rooms, 
 costly furniture, valuable paintings, beautiful gardens and 
 shrubberies are universally approved ; while the rank, 
 fashion, taste, and riches cf the possessor, afford ample 
 materials for entertaining discussion. In the mean time, 
 the lowly cottage of the poor husbandman is passed by as 
 scarcely deserving of notice. Yet perchance such a cot- 
 tage may often contain a treasure of infinitely more value 
 than the sumptuous palace of the rich man, even " the 
 pearl of great price." If this be set in the heart of the 
 poor cottager, it proves a gem of unspeakable worth, 
 and will shine among the brightest ornaments of the Re- 
 deemer's crown, in that day when he maketh up his 
 "jewels." 
 
 Hence, the Christian traveller, while in common w^ith 
 'Others he bestows his due share of applause on the deco- 
 rations of the rich, and is not insensible to the beauties 
 and magnificence which are the lawfully allowed appen- 
 dages of rank and fortune, cannot overlook the humbler 
 dwelling of the poor. And if he should find that true piety 
 and grace beneath the thatched roof which he has in vain 
 looked for amidst the worldly grandeur of the rich, he 
 jemembers the declarations in the word of God. He Bees
 
 THE dairyman's daughtek.. 75 
 
 with admiration, that " the high and lofty One, that inhab- 
 iteth eternity, whose name is Holy, who dwelleth in the 
 high and holy place, dwelleth with him also that is of a 
 contrite and humble spirit," (Isaiah Ivii. 15,) and although 
 heaven is his throne, and the earth his footstool, yet, when 
 a house is to be built, and a place of rest to be sought for 
 himself, he says, " To this man will I look, even to him 
 that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my 
 word." — Isa. Ixii. 1, 2. 
 
 When a house is thus tenanted, faith beholds this in- 
 scription written on the walls. The Lord lives here. Faith 
 therefore cannot pass it by unnoticed, but loves to lift up 
 the latch of the door, and to sit down and converse with 
 the poor, although perhaps despised inhabitant. Many a 
 sweet interview does Faith obtain, when she thus takes 
 her walks abroad. Many such a sweet interview have I 
 myself enjoyed beneath the roof where dwelt the Dairy- 
 man and his little family. 
 
 I soon perceived that his daughter's health was rapidly 
 on the decline. The pale wasting consumption, which is 
 the Lord's instrument for removing so many thousands 
 every year from the land of the living, made hasty strides 
 on her constitution The hollow eye, the distressing 
 cough, and the often too flattering flush on the cheek, 
 foretold the approach of death. 
 
 What a field for usefulness and affectionate attention, 
 on the part of Ministers and Christian friends, is opened 
 by the frequent attacks, and lingering process of consump- 
 tive illness ! How many such precious opportunities are 
 daily lost, where Providence seems in so marked a way to 
 afford time and space for serious and godly instruction ! 
 Of how many may it be said, "The way of peace have
 
 T6 THE dairyiuan's daughter. 
 
 they not Known !" for not one friend ever came nigh, to 
 warn them to '• flee from the wrath to come." 
 
 But the Dairyman's daughter was happily made ac- 
 quainted with the things which belonged to her everlast- 
 ing peace before the present disease had taken root in her 
 constitution. In my visits to her, I went rather to receive 
 information than to impart it. Her mind was absolutely 
 stored with divine truths, and her conversation was truly 
 edifying. The recollection of it will ever produce a thank- 
 ful sensation in my heart. 
 
 I one day received a short note to the following effect : 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 " I should be very glad, if your convenience will al- 
 low, that you would come and see a poor unworthy sinner : 
 my hour-glass is nearly run out, but I hope I can see 
 Christ to be precious to my soul. Your conversation has 
 often been blessed to me, and I now feel the need of it more 
 than ever. My father and mother send their duty to you. 
 "Fronv>your obedient, 
 
 " And unworthy servant, 
 
 "E W ." 
 
 I obeyed the summons that same afternoon. On my 
 jxrrival at the Dairyman's cottage, his wife opened the 
 door. The tears streamed down her cheek, as she silent- 
 ly shook her head. Her heart was full. She tried to 
 speak, but could not. I took her by the hand, and said, 
 
 " My good friend, all is right, and as the Lord of wisdom 
 and mercy directs." 
 
 " O ! my Betsy, my dear girl, is so bad, sir : what shall 
 I do without her 1 — I thought I should have gone first to 
 the grave, but "
 
 THE DAIKYMAM's DAUGHTER. 77 
 
 "But the Lord sees good that before you die yourself, 
 you sliould behold your child safe home to glory. Is there 
 no mercy in this ?" 
 
 " O dear sir ! I am very old and very weak ; and she is a 
 dear child, the staff and prop of a poor old creature as I am." 
 
 As I advanced, I saw Elizabeth sitting by the fireside, 
 supported in an armchair by pillows, with every mark ot 
 rapid decline and approaching death. A sweet smile ot 
 friendly complacency enlightened her pale countenance, 
 as she said, 
 
 " This is very kind indeed, sir, to come so soon after I 
 sent to you. You find me daily wasting away, and I can- 
 not have long to continue here. My flesh and my heart 
 fail ; but God is the strength of my weak heart, and I 
 trust will be my portion for ever." 
 
 The conversation was occasionally interrupted by her 
 cough and want of breath. Her tone of voice was clear, 
 though feeble ; her manner solemn and collected, and her 
 eye, though more dim than formerly, by no means wanting 
 in liveliness, as she spoke. I had frequently admired the 
 superior language in which she expressed her ideas, as 
 well as the scriptural consistency with which she commu- 
 nicated her thoughts. She had a good natural under- 
 standing ; and grace, as is generally the case, had much 
 improved it. On the present occasion I could not help 
 thinking she was peculiarly favored. The whole strength 
 of gracious and natural attainments seemed to be in full 
 exercise. 
 
 After taking my seat between the daughter and the 
 mother, (the latter fixing her fond eyes upon her child 
 with great anxiety while we were conversing,) I said to 
 Elizabeth — 
 
 7*
 
 78 THE dairyman's daughtek. 
 
 " I hope you enjoy a sense of the Divine presence, and 
 can rest all upon Him who has ' been with thee,' and has 
 kept ' thee in all places whither thou hast gone,' and will 
 bring thee into 'the land of pure delights, where saints im- 
 mortal reign.' " 
 
 " Sir, I think I can. My mind has lately been some- 
 times clouded, but I believe it has been partly owing to 
 the great weakness and suffering of my bodily frame, and 
 partly to the envy of my spiritual enemy, who wants to 
 persuade me that Christ has no love for me, and that I 
 have been a self-deceiver." 
 
 " And do you give way to his suggestions ? Can you 
 doubt amidst such numerous tokens of past and present 
 mercy ?" 
 
 "No, sir, I mostly am enabled to preserve a clear evi- 
 dence of his love. I do not v»'ish to add to my other sins 
 that of denying his manifest goodness to my soul. I 
 would acknowledge it to his praise and glory." 
 
 " What is your present view of the state in which you 
 were, before you felt seriously concerned about the salva- 
 tion of j'our soul?" 
 
 " Sir, I was a proud, thoughtless girl, fond of dress and 
 finery ; I loved the world, and the things that are in the 
 world ; I lived in service among worldly people, and 
 never had the happiness of being in a family where wor- 
 ship was regarded, and the souls of the servants cared for 
 either by master or mistress. I went once on a Sunday 
 to church, more to see and be seen, than to pray or hear 
 the Word of God. I thought I was quite good enough to 
 be saved, and disliked, and often laughed at religious peo- 
 ple. I was in great darkness ; I knew nothing of the way 
 of salvation ; I never prayed, nor was sensible of the aw
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 79 
 
 ful danger of a prayerless state. I wished to maintain the 
 character of a good servant, and was much lifted up when- 
 ever I met with applause. I was tolerably moral and 
 decent in my conduct, from motives of carnal and worldly 
 policy ; but I was a stranger to God and Christ ; I neg- 
 lected my soul ; and had I died in such a state, hell must, 
 and would justly, have been my portion." 
 
 " How long is it since you heard the sermon which you 
 hope, through God's blessing, effected your conversion "?" 
 
 " About five years ago." 
 
 "How was it brought about 1" 
 
 " It was reported that a Mr. • , who was detained by 
 
 contrary winds from embarking on board ship as chaplain 
 
 to a distant part of the world, was to preach at church. 
 
 Many advised me not to go, for fear he should turn my 
 head ; as they said he held strange notions. But curiosity, 
 and an opportunity of appearing in a new gown, which I 
 was very proud of, induced me to ask leave of my mistress 
 to go. Indeed, sir, I had no better motives than vanity 
 and curiosity. Yet thus it pleased the Lord to order it for 
 his own glory. 
 
 " I accordingly went to church, and saw a great crowd 
 of people collected together. I often think of the contrary 
 Btates of my mind during the former and latter part of the 
 service. For awhile, regardless of the worship of God, I 
 looked around me, and was anxious to attract notice my- 
 self. My dress, like that of too many gay, vain, and silly 
 servant girls, was much above my station, and very dif- 
 ferent from that which becomes an humble sinner, who 
 ^as a modest sense of propriety and decency. The state 
 of my mind was visible enough from the foolish finery of 
 my apparel
 
 80 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " At length the clergyman gave out his text : ' Be ye 
 clothed with humility.' He drew a comparison between 
 the clothing of the body with that of the soul. At a very 
 early part of his discourse, I began to feel ashamed of my 
 passion for fine dressing and apparel ; but when he came 
 to describe the garment of salvation with which a Chris- 
 tian is clothed, I felt a powerful discovery of the nakedness 
 of my own soul. I saw that I had neither the humility 
 mentioned in the text, nor any one part of the true Chris- 
 tian character. I looked at my gay dress, and blushed 
 for shame on account of my pride. I looked at the minis- 
 ter, and he seemed to be as a messenger sent from heaven, 
 to open my eyes. I looked at the congregation, and won- 
 dered whether any one else felt as I did. I looked at my 
 heart, and it appeared full of iniquity. I trembled as he 
 spoke, and yet I felt a great drawing of heart to the words 
 he uttered. 
 
 " He opened the riches of divine grace in God's method 
 of saving the sinner. I was astonished at what I had been 
 doing all the days of my life. He described the meek, 
 lowly, and humble example of Christ ; I felt proud, lofty, 
 vain, and self-consequential. He represented Christ as 
 ' Wisdom ;' I felt my ignorance. He held him forth as 
 ' Righteousness ;' I was convinced of my own guilt. He 
 proved him to be ' Sanctification ;' I saw my corruption. 
 He proclaimed him as ' Redemption ;' I felt my slavery to 
 sin, and my captivity to Satan. He concluded with an 
 animated address to sinners, in which he exhorted them to 
 flee from the wrath to come, to cast off the love of out- 
 ward ornaments, to put on Jesus Christ, and be clothed 
 with true humility. 
 
 " From that hour I never lost sight of the value of my
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 81 
 
 Boul and the daiiger of a sinful state. I inwardly blessed 
 God for the sermon, although my mind was in a state of 
 great confusion. 
 
 " The preacher had brought forward the ruling passion 
 of my heart, which was pride in outward dress ; and by 
 the grace of God it was made instrumental to the awaken- 
 ing of my soul. Happy, sir, would it be, if many a poor 
 girl, like myself, were turned from the love of outward 
 adorning and putting on of fine apparel, to seek that which 
 is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet 
 spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. 
 
 " The greatest part of the congregation, unused to such 
 faithful and scriptural sermons, disliked and complained 
 of the severity of the preacher : while a few, as I after- 
 ward found, like myself, were deeply affected, and ear- 
 nestly wished to hear him again. But he preached there 
 no more. 
 
 " From that time I was led, through a course of private 
 prayer, reading, and meditation, to see my lost estate as 
 a sinner, and the great mercy of God through Jesus Christ, 
 in raising sinful dust and ashes to a share in the glorious 
 happiness of heaven. And, O sir ! what a Saviour I have 
 found ! He is more than I could ask or desire. In his 
 fulness I have found all that my poverty could need : in 
 his bosom I have found a resting-place from all sin and 
 sorrow ; in his word I have found strength against doubt 
 and unbelief." 
 
 " Were you not soon convinced," I said, " that your 
 salvation must be an act of entire grace on the ])art of 
 God, wholly independent of your own previous works or 
 deservings]" 
 
 **Dear sir, what were my works before I heard that ser-
 
 m 
 
 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTEU. 
 
 mon, but evil, carnal, selfish, and ungodly 1 The thoughts 
 of my heart, from my youth upward, were only evil, and 
 that continually. And my deservings, what were they, 
 but the deservings of a fallen, depraved, careless soul, that 
 regarded neither law nor gospel ] Yes, sir, I immediately 
 saw that if ever I was saved, it must be by the free mercy 
 of God, and that the whole praise and honor of the work 
 would be his from first to last." 
 
 " What change did you perceive in yourself with respect 
 to the world ?" 
 
 " It appeared all vanity and vexation of spirit. I found 
 it necessary to my peace of mind to come out from among 
 them and be separate. I gave myself to prayer ; and 
 many a happy hour of secret delight I enjoyed in commu- 
 nion with God. Often I mourned over my sins, and some- 
 times had a great conflict through unbelief, fear, tempta- 
 tion to return back again to my old ways, and a variety of 
 difficulties which lay in my way. But He who loved me 
 with an everlasting love, drew me by his loving-kindness, 
 showed me the way of peace, gradually strengthened me 
 in ray resolutions of leading a new life, and taught me, 
 that while without him I could do nothing, I yet might 
 do all things through his strength." 
 
 " Did you not find many difficulties in your situation, 
 owing to your change of principle and practice 3" 
 
 " Yes, sir, every day of my life. I was laughed at by 
 some, scolded at by others, scorned by enemies, and pitied 
 by friends. I was called hypocrite, saint, false deceiver, 
 and many more names which were meant to render 
 me hateful in the sight of the world. But I esteemed 
 the reproach of the cross an honor. I forgave and prayed 
 for my persecutors, and remembered how very lately
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 8b 
 
 I had acted the same part towards others myself. I 
 thought also that Christ endured the contradiction of sin- 
 ners ; and, as the disciple is not above his Master, I was 
 glad to be in any way conformed to his sufferings." 
 
 " Did you not then feel for your family at home 1" 
 
 " Yes, that I did indeed, sir ; they were never out of my 
 thoughts. I prayed continually for them, and had a long- 
 ing desire to do them good. In particular I felt for my 
 father and mother, as they were getting into years and 
 were very ignorant and dark in matters of religion." 
 
 " Ay," interrupted her mother, sobbing, " ignorant and 
 dark, sinful and miserable we were, till this dear Betsy — 
 — this dear Betsy — this dear child, sir, brought Christ 
 Jesus home to her poor father and mother's house." 
 
 " No, dearest mother, say rather, Christ Jesus brought 
 your poor daughter home, to tell you what he had done for 
 her soul, and, I hope, to do the same for yours." 
 
 At this moment the Dairyman came in with two pails 
 of milk hanging from the yoke on his shoulders. He had 
 stood behind the half-opened door for a few moments, and 
 heard the last sentences spoken by his wife and daughter. 
 
 "Blessing and mercy upon her !" said he, "it is very 
 true ; she left a good place of service on purpose to live 
 with us that she might help us both in soul and body. Sir, 
 don't she look very ill 1 I think, sir, we shan't have her 
 here long." 
 
 " Leave that to the Lord," said Elizabeth. " All our 
 times are in his hand, and happy it is that they are. I am 
 willing to go ; are not you willing, my father, to part with 
 me into his hands, who gave me to you at first V 
 
 " Ask me any question in the world but that," said the 
 weeping father.
 
 84 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 " I know," said she, " you wish me to be happy." 
 
 " I do, I do," answered he : " let the Lord do with you 
 and us as best pleases him." 
 
 I then asked her, on what her present consolations 
 chiefly depended, in the prospect of approaching death. 
 
 " Entirely, sir, on my view of Christ. When I look at 
 myself, many sins, infirmities, and imperfections cloud the 
 image of Christ which I want to see in my own heart. 
 But when I look at the Saviour himself, he is altogether 
 lovely ; there is not one spot in his countenance, nor one 
 cloud over all his perfections. 
 
 " I think of his coming in the flesh, and it reconciles 
 me to the sufferings of the body ; for he had them as well 
 as I. I think of his temptations, and believe that he is 
 able to succor me when I am tempted. Then I think of 
 his cross, and learn to bear my own. I reflect on his death, 
 and long to die unto sin, so that it may no longer have 
 dominion over me. I sometimes think on his resurrection, 
 and trust that he has given me a part in it, for I feel that 
 my aflections are set upon things above. Chiefly I take 
 comfort in thinking of him as at the right hand of the 
 Father, pleading my cause, and rendering acceptable even 
 my feeble prayers, both for myself, and, as I hope, for my 
 dear friends. 
 
 " These are the views which, through mercy, I have of 
 my Saviour's goodness ; and they have made me wish and 
 strive in my poor way to serve him, to give myself up to 
 him, and to labor to do my duty in that state of life into 
 which it has pleased him to call me. 
 
 " A thousand times I should have fallen and fainted, if 
 he had not uphold me. I feel that I am nothing without 
 him. He is all in all.
 
 THE dairyman's daughtek. 85 
 
 " Just so far as I can cast my care upon him, I find 
 strength to do his will. May he give me grace to trust 
 him till the last moment ! I do not fear death, because I 
 believe that he has taken away its sting. And O ! what 
 happiness beyond ! — Tell me, sir, whether you think I am 
 right. I hope I am under no delusion. I dare not look 
 for my hope in any thing short of the entire fulness of 
 Christ. When I ask my own heart a question, I am afraid 
 to trust it, for it is treacherous, and has often deceived 
 me. But when I ask Christ, he answers me with pro- 
 mises that strengthen and refresh me, and leave me no 
 room to doubt his power and will to save. I am in his 
 hands, and would remain there ; and I do believe that he 
 will never leave nor forsake me, but will perfect the thing 
 that concerns me. He loved me, and gave himself for 
 me, and I believe that his gifts and callings are without 
 repentance. In this hope I live, in this hope I wish to die.'* 
 
 I looked around me, as she was speaking, and thought, 
 " Surely this is none other than the house of God, and the 
 gate of heaven." Every thing appeared neat, cleanly, and 
 interesting. The afternoon had been rather overcast with 
 dark clouds ; but just now the setting sun shone brightly 
 and somewhat suddenly into the room. It was reflected 
 from three or four rows of bright pewter plates and white 
 earthen-ware, arranged on shelves against the wall ; it 
 also gave brilliancy to a few prints of sacred subjects that 
 hung there also, and served for monitors of the birth, bap- 
 tism, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ. 
 
 A large map of Jerusalem, and an hieroglyphic of " the 
 
 old and new man," completed the decorations on that side 
 
 of the room. Clean as was the whitewashed wall, it was 
 
 not cleaner than the rest of the place and its furniture. 
 
 8
 
 86 THE dairyman's daughtee. 
 
 Seldom had the sun enlightened a house, where order and 
 general neatness (those sure attendants of pious poverty) 
 were more conspicuous. 
 
 This gleam of setting sunshine was emblematical of 
 the bright and serene close of this young Christian's de- 
 parting season. One ray happened to be reflected from a 
 little looking-glass upon her face. Amidst her pallid and 
 decaying features there appeared a calm resignation, tri- 
 umphant confidence, unaffected humility, and tender anx- 
 iety, which fully declared the feelings of her heart. 
 
 Some further affectionate conversation, and a short 
 prayer, closed this interview. 
 
 As I rode home by departing daylight, a solemn tran- 
 quillity reigned throughout the scene. The gentle lowing 
 of cattle, the bleating of sheep just penned in their folds, 
 the humming of the insects of the night, the distant mur- 
 mur of the sea, the last notes of the birds of day, and the 
 first warblingii of the nightingale, broke upon the ear, and 
 served rather to increase than lessen the peaceful serenity 
 of the evening, and its corresponding eJSects on my own 
 mind. It invited and cherished just such meditations as 
 my visit had already inspired. Natural scenery, when 
 viewed in a Christian mirror frequently afibrds very 
 beautiful illustrations 'of divine truths. We are highly 
 favored, when we can enjoy them, and at the same time 
 draw near to God in them.
 
 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 
 
 PART VII. 
 
 87 
 
 It is a pleasing consideration, that, amidst the spiritual 
 darkness which unhappily prevails in many parts of the 
 land, God nevertheless has a people. It not unfrequently 
 happens that single individuals are to be found, who, though 
 very disadvantageously situated with regard to the ordi- 
 nary means of grace, have received truly saving impres- 
 sions, and through a blessing on secret meditation, read- 
 ing, and prayer, are led to the closest communion with 
 God, and become eminently devoted Christians. It is the no 
 small error of too many professors of the present day, to 
 overlook or undervalue the instances of this kind which 
 exist. The religious profession and opinions of some have 
 too much of mere macliinery in their composition. If every 
 wheel, pivot, chain, spring, cog, or pinion, be not exactly 
 in its place, or move not precisely according to a favorite 
 and prescribed system, the whole is rejected as unworthy 
 of regard. But happily " the Lord knoweth them that are 
 his ;" nor is the impression of his own seal wanting to 
 characterize some, who, in comparative seclusion from the 
 religious world, " name the name of Christ, and depart 
 from iniquity." 
 
 There are some real Christians so peculiarly circum- 
 stanced in this respect, as to illustrate the Poet's beauti- 
 ful comparison, 
 
 " Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 
 The dark unlathom'd caves of ocean bear; 
 
 F ill many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its eweetnesd on tlie desert air."
 
 00 THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yet this was not altogether the case with the Dairy- 
 man's daughter. Her religion had indeed ripened in se- 
 clusion from the world, and she was intimately known but 
 to few ; but she lived usefully, departed most happily, and 
 left a shining track behind her. While I attempt a faint 
 delineation of it, may I catch its influence, and become, 
 through inexpressible mere}*, a follower of " them, who 
 through faith and patience inherit the promises !" 
 
 From the time wherein I visited her, as described in 
 my last paper, I considered her end as fast approaching. 
 One day I received a hasty summons to inform me that she 
 was dying. It was brought by a soldier, whose counte- 
 nance bespoke seriousness, good sense, and piety. 
 
 " I am sent, sir, by the father and mother of Elizabeth 
 
 W , at her own particular request, to say, how much 
 
 they all wish to see you. She is going home, sir, very fast 
 indeed." 
 
 " Have you known her long V 
 
 " About a month, sir ; I love to visit the sick ! and hear- 
 ing of her case from a person who lives close by our camp, 
 
 1 went to see her. I bless God that ever I did go. Her 
 conversation has been very profitable to me." 
 
 " I rejoice," said I, " to see in you, as I trust, a brother 
 soldier. Though we differ in our outward regimentals, I 
 hope we serve under the same spiritual Captain. I will 
 go with you." 
 
 My horse was soon ready. My military companion 
 walked by my side, and gratified me with very sensible 
 and pious conversation. He related some remarkable tes 
 timonies of the excellent disposition of the Dairyman's 
 daughter, as they appeared from recent intercourse which 
 he had had with her.
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 80 
 
 " She is a bright diamond, sir," said the soldier, 
 "and will soon shine brighter than any diamond upon 
 earth.'- 
 
 We passed through lanes and fields, over hills and val- 
 leys, by open and retired paths, sometimes crossing over, 
 and sometimes following the windings of a little brook, 
 which gently murmured by the road-side. Conversation 
 beguiled the distance, and shortened the apparent time of 
 our journey, till we were nearly arrived at the Dairyman's 
 cottage. 
 
 As we approached it, we became silent. Thoughts of 
 death, eternity, and salvation, inspired by the sight of a 
 house where a dying believer lay, filled my own mind, and, 
 I doubt not, that of my companion also. 
 
 No living object yet appeared, except the Dairyman's 
 dog, keeping a kind of mute watch at the door ; for he did 
 not, as formerly, bark at my approach. He seemed to 
 partake so far of the feelings appropriate to the circum- 
 stances of the family, as not to wish to give 'a hasty or 
 painful alarm. He came forward to the little wicket-gate, 
 then looked back at the house-door, as if conscious there 
 was sorrow within. It was as if he wanted to say, " tread 
 softly over the threshold, as you enter the house of mourn- 
 ing ; for my master's heart is full of grief." 
 
 The soldier took my horse and tied it up in a shed. A 
 solemn serenity appeared to surround the whole place : it 
 was only interrupted by the breezes passing through the 
 large elm-trees, which stood near the house, and which 
 my imagination indulged itself in thinking were plaintive 
 sighs of sorrow. I gently opened the door ; no one ap- 
 peared, and all was still silent. The soldier followed ; we 
 came to the foot of the stairs. 
 8*
 
 90 THE DAIRYMA.n's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " They are come," said a voice, which I knew to be the 
 father's ; " they are come." 
 
 He appeared at the top • I gave him my hand and said 
 nothing. On entering- the room above, I saw the aged 
 mother and her son supporting the much-loved daughter and 
 sister : the son's wife sat weeping in a window-seat, with 
 a child on her lap ; two or three persons attended in the 
 room to discharge any office w^hich friendship or necessity 
 might require. 
 
 I sat down by the bedside. The mother could not 
 weep, but now and then sighed deeply, as she alternately 
 looked at Elizabeth and at me. The big tear rolled down 
 the brother's cheek, and testified an affectionate regard. 
 The good old man stood at the foot of the bed, leaning 
 upon the post, and unable to take his eyes off the child 
 from whom he was so soon to part. 
 
 Elizabeth's eyes were closed, and as yet she perceived 
 me not. But over the face, though pale, sunk, and hol- 
 low, the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, 
 had cast a triumphant calm. 
 
 The soldier, after a short pause, silently reached out his 
 Bible towards me, pointing with his finger at 1 Cor. xv. 
 55, 56, 57. I then broke silence by reading the passage, 
 " O death, where is thy sting 1 O grave, w^here is thy 
 victory 1 the sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin 
 is the law. But thanks be to God which giveth us the 
 victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 At the sound of these w^ords her eyes opened, and some- 
 thinglike a ray of divine light beamed on her countenance, as 
 she said, "Victory, victory ! through our Lord Jesus Christ" 
 
 She relapsed again, taking no further notice of any one 
 present
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 91 
 
 " God be praised for the triumph of faith !" said I. 
 
 " Amen !" replied the soldier. 
 
 The Dairyman's uplifted eye showed that the Amen 
 u-as in his heart, though his tongue failed to utter it. 
 
 A short struggling for breath took place in the dying 
 young woman, which was soon over ; and then I said to 
 her, 
 
 " My dear friend, do you not feel that you are sup- 
 ported ]" 
 
 " The Lord deals very gently with me," she replied. 
 
 "Are not his promises now very precious to you]" 
 
 "They are all yea and amen in Christ Jesus." 
 
 " Are you in much bodily pain "J" 
 
 " So little, that I almost forget it." 
 
 " How good the Lord is !" 
 
 " And how unworthy am I !" 
 
 " You are going to see him as he is." 
 
 " I think 1 hope 1 believe that I am." 
 
 She again fell into a short slumber. 
 
 Looking at her mother, I said, " What a mercy to have 
 a child so near heaven as yours is !" 
 
 " And what a mercy," she replied, in broken accents, 
 " if her poor old mother might but follow her there ! But, 
 sir, it is so hard to part !" 
 
 " I hope through grace by faith you will soon meet, to 
 part no more : it will be but a little while." 
 
 " Sir," said the Dairyman, " that thought supports me, 
 and the Lord's goodness 'makes me feel more reconciled 
 than I was." 
 
 " Father mother," said the reviving daughter, 
 
 •• he is good to me trust him, praise him evermore." 
 
 ' " Sir," added she, in a faint voice, " I want to thank you
 
 92 Th£ DAIRY3IAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 for 3^our kindness to me 1 want to ask a favor ; 
 
 you buried ray sister will you do the same for me 1" 
 
 " All shall be as you wish, if God permit," I replied. 
 
 " Thank you, sir, thank you ; 1 have another favor 
 
 lo ask When I am gone, remember my father and mo- 
 ther. They are old, but I hope the good work is begun 
 
 in their souls My prayers are heard Pray come and 
 
 see them — I cannot speak much, but I want to speak for 
 their sakes Sir, remember them." 
 
 The aged parents now sighed and sobbed aloud, utter- 
 ing broken sentences, and gained some relief by such an 
 expression of their feelings. 
 
 At length I said to Elizabeth, " Do you experience any 
 doubts or temptations on the subject of your eternal 
 safety ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; the Lord deals very gently with me, and 
 gives me peace." 
 
 " What are your views of the dark valley of death, now 
 that you are passing through it ]" 
 
 " It is not dark." 
 
 Why 
 
 so 
 
 1" 
 
 " My Lord is there, and he is my light and my salvation." 
 " Have you any fears of more bodily suffering ]" 
 " The Lord deals so gently with me ; I can trust him." 
 Something of a convulsion came on. When it was past, 
 she said again and again, 
 
 " The Lord deals very gently with me. Lord, I am 
 
 thine, save me Blessed Jesus precious Saviour 
 
 His blood cleanseth from all sin Who shall separate ? 
 
 His name is Wonderful Thanks be to God 
 
 He giveth us the victory, 1, even I, am saved 
 
 O grace, mercy, and wonder Lord, receive my spirit !
 
 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. VO 
 
 Dear sir, dear father, mother, friends, I am going 
 
 but all is well, well, well " 
 
 She relapsed again — We knelt down to prayer — The 
 Lord was in the midst of us, and blessed us. 
 
 She did not again revive while I remained, nor ever 
 speak any more words which could be understood. She 
 slumbered for about ten hours, and at last sweetly fell 
 asleep in the arms of that Lord, who had dealt so gently 
 with her. 
 
 I left the house an hour after she had ceased to speak. 
 I pressed her hand as I was taking leave, and said, " Christ 
 is the resurrection and the life." She gently returned the 
 pressure, but could neither open her eyes, nor utter a reply. 
 
 I never had witnessed a scene so impressive as this be- 
 fore. It completely filled my imagination as I returned 
 home. 
 
 " Farewell," thought I, " dear friend, till the morning 
 of an eternal day shall renew our personal intercourse. 
 Thou wast a brand plucked from the burning, that thou 
 mightest become a star shining in the firmament of glory. 
 I have seen thy light and thy good works, and will there- 
 fore glorify our Father which is in heaven. I have seen, 
 in thy example, what it is to be a sinner freely saved by 
 grace. I have learned from thee, as in a living mirror, 
 who it is that begins, continues, and ends the work of 
 faith and love. Jesus is all in all : he will and shall be 
 glorified. He won the crown, and alone deserves to wear 
 it. May no one attempt to rob him of his glory ! He 
 saves, and saves to the uttermost. Farewell, dear sister 
 in the Lord. Thy flesh and thy heart may fail ; but God 
 is the strength of tl y heart, and shall be thy portion 
 for ever.
 
 94 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 PART YIII. 
 
 Who can conceive or estimate the nature of that change 
 which the soul of a believer must experience at the mo- 
 ment when, quitting- its tabernacle of clay, it suddenly 
 enters into the presence of God ] If, even while " we see 
 through a glass darkly," the views of divine love and wis- 
 dom are so delightful to the eye of faith ; what must be 
 the glorious vision of God, when seen face to face ? If it 
 be so valued a privilege here on earth to enjoy the com- 
 munion of saints, and to take sweet counsel together with 
 our fellow-travellers towards the heavenly kingdom ; what 
 shall we see and know when we finally " come unto mount 
 Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly 
 Jerusalem, and to the innumerable company of angels, to 
 the general assembly and church of the first-born which 
 are v/ritten in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to 
 the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the 
 Mediator of the new covenant ]" 
 
 If, during the sighs and tears of a mortal pilgrimage, the 
 consolations of the Spirit are so precious, and the hope 
 full of immortality is so animating to the soul ; what heart 
 can conceive, or what tongue utter its superior joys, when 
 arrived at that state, where sighing and sorrow flee away, 
 and the tears shall be wiped from every eye ? 
 
 Such ideas were powerfully associated together in my 
 imagination, as I travelled onward to the house, where, in 
 solemn preparation for the grave, lay the remains of the 
 Dairyman's daughter. 
 
 She had breathed her last shortly after the visit related
 
 THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 
 
 95 
 
 in my former account. Permission was obtained, as before 
 in the case of her sister, that I should perform the funeral 
 service. Many pleasing yet melancholy thoughts were 
 connected with the fulfilment of this task. I retraced the 
 numerous and important conversations which I had held 
 with her. But these could now no longer be maintained 
 on earth. I reflected on the interesting and improving na- 
 ture of Christian friendships, whether formed in palaces 
 or in cottages ; and felt thankful that I had so long en- 
 joyed that privilege with the subject of this memorial. I 
 then indulged a selfish sigh for a moment, on thinking that 
 I could no longer hear the great truths of Christianity ut- 
 tered by one who had drunk so deep of the waters of the 
 river of life. But the rising murmur was checked by the 
 animating thought ; " She is gone to eternal rest — could 
 I wish her back again in this vale of tears ?" 
 
 At that moment, the first sound of a tolling bell struck 
 my ear. It proceeded from a village church in the valley 
 directly beneath the ridge of a high hill, over which I had 
 taken my way. — It was Elizabeth's funeral knell. 
 
 The sound was solemn ; and in ascending to the ele- 
 vated spot over which I rode, it acquired a peculiar tone 
 and character. Tolling at slow and regular intervals, (as 
 was customary for a considerable time previous to the 
 hour of burial,) the bell, as it were, proclaimed the blessed- 
 ness of the dead who die in the Lord, and also the neces- 
 sity of the living pondering these things, and laying them 
 to heart. It seemed to say, " Hear my warning voice, thou 
 son of man. There is but a step between thee and death. 
 Arise, prepare thine house, for thou shalt die, and not 
 live." 
 
 The scenery was in unison with that tranquil frame of
 
 96 THE dairyman's daughtee. 
 
 mind which is most suitable for holy meditation. A rich 
 and fruitful valley lay immediately beneath ; it was adorn- 
 ed with cornfields and pastures, through which a small 
 river winded in a variety of directions, and many herds 
 grazed upon its banks. A fine range of opposite hills, 
 covered with grazing flocks, terminated with a bo. d sweep 
 into the ocean, whose blue waves appeared at a distance 
 beyond. Several villages, hamlets, and churches, were 
 scattered in the valley. The noble mansions of the rich, 
 and the lowly cottages of the poor, added their respective 
 features to the landscape. The air was mild, and the de- 
 clining sun occasioned a beautiful interchange of light and 
 shade upon the sides of the hills. In the midst of this 
 scene, the chief sound that arrested attention was the bell 
 tolling for the funeral of the Dairyman's daughter. 
 
 Do any of my readers inquire why I describe so mi- 
 nutely the circumstances of prospect and scenery which 
 may be connected with the incidents I relate ? My reply 
 is, that the God of redemption is the God of creation like- 
 wise ; and that we are taug?it in every part of the Word 
 of God to unite the admiration of the beauties and wonders 
 of nature to every other motive for devotion. When Da- 
 vid considered the heavens, the work of God's fingers, the 
 moon and the stars, which he has ordained, he was thereby 
 led to the deepest humiliation of heart before his Maker. 
 And when he viewed the sheep and the oxen and the 
 beasts of the field, the fowl of the air and the fish of the 
 sea, he was constrained to cry out, " O Lord, our Lord ! 
 how excellent is thy name in all the earth !" 
 
 I am the Poor Man's Friend, and wish more especially 
 that every poor laboring man should know how to connect 
 the goodness of God in creation and providence with the
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 97 
 
 unsearchable riches of his grace in the salvat.on of a sin- 
 ner. And where can he learn this lesson more instruc- 
 tively than in looking around the fields where his labor ia 
 appointed, and there tracing the handy- work of God in all 
 that he beholds ] Such meditations have often afforded 
 me both profit and pleasure, and I wish my readers to 
 share them with me. 
 
 The Dairyman's cottage was rather more than a mile 
 distant from the church. A lane, quite overshaded with 
 trees and high hedges, led from the foot of the hill to his 
 dwelling. It was impossible at that time to overlook the 
 suitable gloom of such an approach to the house of 
 mourning. 
 
 I found, on my entrance, that several Christian friends, 
 from different parts of the neighborhood, had assembled 
 together, to pay their last tribute of esteem and regard to 
 the memory of the Dairyman's daughter. Several of them 
 had first become acquainted with her during the latter 
 stage of her illness : some few had maintained an affec- 
 tionate intercourse with her for a longer period. But all 
 seemed anxious to manifest their respect for one who was 
 endeared to them by such striking testimonies of true 
 Christianity. 
 
 I was requested to go into the chamber where the rela- 
 tives and a few other friends i^ere gone to take a last look 
 at the remains of Elizabeth. 
 
 It is not easy to describe the sensation which the mind 
 experiences on the first sight of a dead countenance, 
 which, when living, was loved and esteemed for the sake 
 of that soul which used to give it animation. A deep and 
 awful view of the separation that has taken place between 
 the soul and body of the deceased, since we last beheld 
 9
 
 98 THE dairyman's daughtek. 
 
 them, occupies the feelings ; our friend seems to be both 
 near, and yet far off. The most interesting and valuable 
 part is fled away ; what remains is but the earthly perish- 
 ing habitation, no longer occupied by its tenant. Yet the 
 features present the accustomed association of friendly in- 
 tercourse. For one moment, we could think them asleep. 
 The next reminds us that the blood circulates no more ; 
 Ihe eye has lost its power of seeing, the ear of hearing, 
 the heart of throbbing, and the limbs of moving. Quick- 
 ly, a thought of glory breaks in upon the mind, and we 
 imagine the dear departed soul to be arrived at its long- 
 wished-for rest. It is surrounded by cherubim and 
 seraphim, and sings the song of Moses and the Lamb 
 on Mount Zion. Amid the solemn stillness of the cham- 
 ber of death, imagination hears heavenly hymns chanted 
 by the spirits of just men made perfect. In another mo- 
 ment, the livid lips and sunken eye of the clay-cold corpse 
 recall our thoughts to earth, and to ourselves again. And 
 while we think of mortality, sin, death, and the grave, we 
 feel the prayer rise in our bosom, " O let me die the death 
 of the righteous, and let my last end be like his !" 
 
 If there be a moment when Christ and salvation, death, 
 judgment, heaven, and hell, appear more than ever to be 
 momentous subjects of meditation, it is that which brings 
 lis to the side of a coffin containing the body of a departed 
 believer. 
 
 Elizabeth's features were altered, but much of her like- 
 ness remained. Her father and mother sat at the head, 
 her brother at the foot, of the coffin. The father silently 
 and alternately looked upon his dead child, and then lifted 
 up his eyes to heaven. A struggle for resignation to the 
 will of God was manifest in his countenance ; while the
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 99 
 
 tears, rolling down his aged cheeks, at the same time de- 
 clared his grief and affection. The poor mother cried and 
 sobbed aloud, and appeared to be much overcome by the 
 shock of separation from a daughter so justly dear to her. 
 The weakness and infirmity of old age added a character 
 to her sorrow, which called for much tenderness and com- 
 passion. 
 
 A remarkably decent-looking woman, who had the man- 
 agement of the few simple though solemn ceremonies 
 which the case required, advanced towards rae, saying, 
 
 " Sir, this is rather a sight of joy than of sorrow. Our 
 dear friend, Elizabeth, finds it to be so, I have no doubt. 
 She is beyond all sorrow : do you not think she is, sir ?" 
 
 " After what I have known, and seen, and heard," I 
 replied, " I feel the fullest assurance, that while her body 
 remains here, her soul is with her Saviour in Paradise. 
 She loved him ^ere, and there she enjoys the pleasures 
 which are at his right hand for evermore." 
 
 " Mercy, mercy upon a poor old creature almost broken 
 down with age and grief ! — What shall I do ? — Betsy's 
 gone. My daughter's dead. — O my child ! I shall never 
 see thee more. — God be merciful to me a sinner !" sobbed 
 out the poor mother. 
 
 " That last prayer, my dear good woman," said I, " will 
 bring you and your child together again. It is a cry that 
 has brought thousands to glory. It brought your daugh- 
 ter there, and 1 hope it will bring you thither likewise. 
 God will in no wise cast out any that come to him." 
 
 " My dear," said the Dairyman, breaking the long silence 
 he had maintained, " let us trust God with our child ; and 
 let us trust him with our own selves. The Lord gave, 
 and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of
 
 100 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 the Lord ! We are old, and can have but a little further 
 
 to travel in our journey, and then " he could say no 
 
 more. 
 
 The soldier, mentioned in my last paper, reached a 
 Bible into my hand, and said, " Perhaps, sir, you would 
 not object to reading a chapter before we go to the 
 church]" 
 
 I did so ; it was the fourteenth of the book of Job. A 
 sweet tranquillity prevailed while I read it. Each minute 
 that was spent in this funeral chamber seemed to be val- 
 uable. I made a few observations on the chapter, and 
 connected them with the case of our departed sister. 
 
 " I am but a poor soldier," said our military friend, " and 
 have nothing of this world's goods beyond my daily sub- 
 sistence ; but I would not exchange my hope of salvation 
 in the next world, for all that this world could bestow 
 without it. What is wealth without grace "? Blessed be 
 God ! as I march about from one quarters to another, I 
 still find the Lord wherever I go ; and thanks be to his 
 holy name, he is here to-day in the midst of this company 
 of the living and the dead. I feel that it is good to be here." 
 
 Some other persons present began to take a part in our 
 conversation, in the course of which the life and expe- 
 rience of the Dairyman's daughter were brought forward 
 in a very interesting manner. Each friend had something 
 to relate in testimony of her gracious disposition. A 
 young woman under twenty, who had hitherto been a very 
 light and trifling character, appeared to be remarkably im- 
 pressed by the conversation of that day ; and I have since 
 had ground to believe that divine grace then began to in- 
 fluence her in the choice of that better part, which shall 
 not be taken from her.
 
 THE DAIEYMAN's DAUGHTER. 101 
 
 What a contrast does such a scene as this exhibit, when 
 compared with the dull, formal, unedifying-, and often in- 
 decent manner, in which funeral parties assemble in the 
 house of death ! 
 
 As we conversed, the parents revived. Our subject of 
 discourse was delightful to their hearts. Their child 
 seemed almost to be alive again, while we talked of her. 
 Tearful smiles often brightened their countenances, as 
 they heard the voice of friendship uttering their daugh- 
 ter's praises ; or rather the praises of Him, who had made 
 her a vessel of mercy, and an instrument of spiritual good 
 to her family. 
 
 The time for departing to the church was now at hand. 
 
 I went to take ray last look at the deceased. 
 
 There was much written on her countenance. She 
 had evidently died with a smile. It still remained, and 
 spoke the tranquillity of her departed soul. According to 
 the custom of the country, she was decorated with leaves 
 and flowers in the coffin : she seemed as a bride gone 
 forth to meet the bridegroom. These, indeed, were fading 
 flowers, but they reminded me of that paradise whose 
 flowers are immortal, and where her never-dying soul is 
 at rest. 
 
 I remembered the last words which I had heard her 
 speak, and was instantly struck with the happy thought, 
 that " death was indeed swallowed up in victory." 
 
 As I slowly retired, I said, inwardly, " Peace, my Iion- 
 ored sister, be to thy memory and to my soul, till we meet 
 in a better world." 
 
 In a little time the procession formed : it was rendered 
 the more interesting by the consideration of so many that 
 followed the cofSn being persons of a devoted and spiritual 
 9*
 
 108 THE dairyman's DAUGHTEll. 
 
 character. The distance was rather more than a mile. I 
 resolved to continue with and go before them, as they 
 moved slowly onward. 
 
 Immediately after the body came the venerable father 
 and mother,* bending with age, and weeping through much 
 affliction of heart Their appearance was calculated to 
 excite every emotion of pity, love, and esteem. The other 
 relatives followed them in order, and the several attendant 
 friends took their places behind. 
 
 After we had advanced about a hundred yards, my med- 
 itation was unexpectedly and most agreeably interrupted 
 by the friends who attended beginning to sing a funeral 
 psalm. Nothing could be more sweet or solemn. The 
 well-known effect of the open air in softening and blend- 
 ing the sounds of music, was here peculiarly felt. The 
 road through which we passed was beautiful and roman- 
 tic. It lay at the foot of a hill, which occasionally re- 
 echoed the voices of the singers, and seemed to give faint 
 replies to the notes of the mourners. The funeral knell 
 was distinctly heard from the church tower, and greatly 
 increased the effect which this simple and becoming ser- 
 vice produced. 
 
 We went by several cottages : a respectful attention 
 was universally observed as we passed : and the counte- 
 nances of many proclaimed their regard for the departed 
 young woman. The singing was regularly continued, 
 
 * The mother died not long after her daughter ; and 1 have good reason to 
 believe that God was merciful to her, and took her to himself. 
 
 An interesting account of a visit recently made to tlie Dairj-man's cottage, 
 appeared in the Christian Guardian, for October, 1813.— A still more recent 
 visit to the good old Dairyman (who still lives, at the age of 62) has been 
 made by the author of tliis narrative. {June, 1814.) 
 
 The good old Dairyman died in 1816.— His end was eminently Cliristian.
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 103 
 
 with occasional intervals of about five minutes, during our 
 whole progress. 
 
 I cannot describe the state of my own mind as peculiarly 
 connected with this solemn singing. I was reminded of 
 elder times and ancient piety. I wished the practice 
 more frequent. It seems well calculated to excite and 
 cherish devotion and religious affections. 
 
 Music, when judiciously brought into the service of re- 
 ligion, is one of the most delightful, and not least effica- 
 cious means of grace. I pretend not too minutely to 
 conjecture as to the actual nature of those pleasures which, 
 after the resurrection, the reunited body and soul will 
 enjoy in heaven ; but I can hardly persuade myself that 
 melody and harmony will be wanting, when even the sense 
 of hearing shall itself be glorified. 
 
 We at length arrived at the church. Looking upward, 
 as I drew near the church, I observed a dial on the wall. 
 The sun's declining rays directed the shadow to the even- 
 ing hour. As I passed underneath this simple but solemn 
 monitor, I was reminded of the lapse of time, the uncer- 
 tainty of life, and sure approach of eternity. I thought 
 with David, " We are strangers before thee, and sojourn- 
 ers, as were all our fathers ; our days on the earth are as 
 a shadow, and there is none abiding." " Lord, so teach 
 us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto 
 wisdom." 
 
 The service was heard with deep and aflectionate atten- 
 tion. When we came to the grave, the hymn which 
 Elizabeth had selected was sung. All was devout, simple, 
 animating. We committed our dear sister's body to the 
 earth, in full hope of a joyful resurrection from the dead. 
 
 Thus was the veil of separation drawn for a season.
 
 104 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 She IS departed and no more seen. But she will be seen 
 on the right hand of her Redeemer at the last day ; and 
 will again appear to his glory, a miracle of grace and mon- 
 ument of mercy. 
 
 My reader, rich or poor, shall you and I appear there 
 likewise ? Are we " clothed with humility," and arrayed 
 in the wedding garment of a Redeemer's righteousness? 
 Are we turned from idols to serve the living God ? Are 
 we sensible of our own emptiness, and therefore flying to 
 a Saviour's fulness to obtain grace and strength ? Do we 
 indeed live in Christ, and on him, and by him, and with 
 him ] Is he our all in all ] Are we " lost and found ]" 
 "dead and alive again?" 
 
 My poor reader, the Dairyman's daughter was a poor 
 girl, and the child of a poor man. Herein thou resemblest 
 her : but dost thou resemble her, as she resembled Christ"? 
 Art thou made rich by faith 1 Hast thou a crown laid up 
 for thee ? Is thine heart set upon heavenly riches ? If 
 not, read this story once more, and then pray earnestly for 
 like precious faith. 
 
 But if, through grace, thou dost love and serve the Re 
 deemer that saved the Dairyman's daughter, grace, peace, 
 and mercy be with thee 1 The lines are fallen unto thee 
 in pleasant places : thou hast a goodly heritage. Press 
 forward in duty, and wait upon the Lord, possessing thy 
 soul in holy patience. Thou hast just been with me to the 
 grave of a departed believer. Now " go thy way, till the 
 end be ; for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the 
 end of the days."
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The first two letters were addressed by the Dairyman's 
 daughter to her father. I of course omit those passages 
 which are strictly personal and private. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 TO MR. JOSEPH WALLBRIDGE. 
 
 Southampton, Feb. 23, 1797 
 
 Mt dear and honored Father, 
 
 ***** 
 
 And now, my dear father, I do not know what to say 
 to change the scene. I suppose you were a little alarmed 
 the other day, when the fleet of colliers came in, and they 
 were taken for French. It was reported here that they 
 were landed at several places ; and we should have soon 
 been over in the island for shelter from them : as if by 
 that means we could " flee from the wrath to come," or 
 stay the hand of an almighty and justly avenging God, 
 who, for the sins of mankind, has sent his judgments 
 abroad in the earth. And even now we are ready to say
 
 106 THE DAIKYMAN's DAUGHTER. 
 
 to that God who hath so long withheld the sword of ven- 
 geance from destroying us, and still extends his everlasting 
 arms of mercy to save us — "Depart from us" — for we 
 desire not the knowledge of him. But I hope, my dear 
 father, that the Lord will have mercy on us, and bring us 
 out of that gross dark'.iess into his marvellous light, and 
 set our feet on that rock that is higher than we are. But 
 we are informed by the word of God, that if we would 
 have all these blessings bestowed on us, we must fix all 
 our hopes and our faith on the blessed Lamb of God that 
 was slain to redeem the fallen children of Adam. For 
 "as in Adam all died, so shall all" true believers "in 
 Christ be made alive" to God : and then, my dear father, 
 we may say, 
 
 " Prisoners of hope, lift up your heads, 
 Tlie (lay of liborty draws near ; 
 Jesus, who on the serpent treads, 
 Shall soon in your behalf appear: 
 The Lord will to Ills temple come. 
 Prepare your Jicarts to make him room." 
 
 My dear father, I hope that God will not suffer sickness 
 or death ever to surprise us unawares, or find us in a state 
 unprepared. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 Please to give my duty to my dear and tender mother, 
 and accept the same yourself, and love to dear brothers 
 and sisters ; and may the blessed Spirit of God be very 
 powerful in all your hearts to root out every evil.
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 107 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Southampton, April 11, 1797. 
 My DEAR Father, 
 
 I have been silent long:er than I should, had my dear 
 sister written before ; but, as I know all things are guided 
 and governed by Him whom my soul loveth, I wait patiently 
 his appointed time. O, my dear father, it is good to trust in 
 him, to call upon him, to honor his holy name. O, if you 
 have not tasted how good and gracious the Lord is, then 
 turn and seek him while he may be found. None ever 
 sought his glorious face in vain ; and those " that come 
 unto me (saith the dear Lamb of God) I will in no wise 
 cast out." No : his tender love, pity, and compassion 
 never fail to poor sinners. No : though my dear mother 
 and father have lived to near the time that my God hath 
 said shall be the age of man ; and ye have still been sin- 
 ning and grieving, and hiding, as it were, your faces from 
 that God who is still pursuing you with his love and mercy, 
 yea, even the blessed Jesus, who is still making interces- 
 sion for sinners at his Father's right hand. And 
 
 " When justice bared the sword 
 
 To cut the fig-tree down, 
 The pity of my I^ord 
 
 Cried, let it still alone: 
 The Father mild, inclined his ear, 
 And spares us yet another year." 
 
 But remember, my dear friends, his blessed words : 
 "My Spirit shall not always strive with man :" and, "ex-
 
 108 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 cept you are born again, ye cannot inherit the kingdom of 
 heaven;'' and if you are not washed in the precious blood 
 of that dear Lamb of God, you can have no part with him ; 
 and if his Spirit does not "bear witness with your spirit" 
 that your are born of God, you are still in your sins, and 
 strangers to the blood that bought you on the tree. Oh ! 
 my daily prayer to God is, that he will " turn you, and so 
 shall you be turned." Oh ! the dear Redeemer still waits 
 to be gracious ; he is ever ready to pardon your sins, and 
 seal it with his precious blood; he is ever calling, "Come 
 unto me, all ye that do labor and are heavy laden" with 
 the burden of your sins, "and I will give you rest." Then 
 I entreat you, my dear friends, in the name of the most 
 high God, that ye turn and lay hold of the ever-blessed 
 Jesu as your shield of faith, and he will arm you with the 
 whole armor of God. But remember this : though God is 
 full of love and mercy, yet he will be sought unto. Then 
 draw nigh unto God in secret prayer, and God will draw \ 
 nigh unto your precious souls, and that to bless them ; and 
 will say unto you, Believe on me, "my grace is sufficient 
 for you," I will cleanse you in my precious blood ; and 
 then shall your leprosy be healed, and you shall return ■ 
 without spot. And then you must watch and pray to him 
 continually to keep you clean. Oh ! he is always more 
 ready to hear than we are to pray, and more ready to give 
 than we to ask. Remember, rny dear father, that the lan- 
 guage of every prayerless and unconverted soul is, " Depart 
 from me, O God ;" for we desire not the knowledge of the 
 Most High. Then put off the evil day no longer, lest you 
 should hear him say, who is willing and able to save to the 
 uttermost those that come unto him, " I have stretched out 
 my hand all the day long, and no man regarded." And
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 109 
 
 "behold I knock at the door of every man's heart, and to 
 hira that openeth unto me I will come in, and sup with 
 him, and he with me." My dear father, those are "blessed 
 and comfortable words ; and I am his living witness, and I 
 " set to my seal" that Jesus is true. O the happy state 
 of the children of God ! Now I ask and receive : I seek 
 and I find him whom my soul loveth ; yea, I always find 
 I have a very near access, through his blessed intercession, 
 to supplicate the throne of grace ; and now I can say, 
 
 " Before the throne my surety stands, 
 My nanne is written on his hands ;" 
 
 and now I am so filled with the peace and love of God,, 
 that I can lift up my soul and say, 
 
 " My God, I know, 1 feel thee mine, 
 And will not quit my claim, 
 Till all I have is lost in thine, 
 And all renewed I am ;" 
 
 " Where'er 1 am, where'er 1 move, 
 I meet the object of my love." 
 
 The Lord doth so strengthen my faith in him,, that I'find' 
 all his promises stand engaged to make me blessed. O' 
 may God pardon what his poor unworthy dust has written, 
 through ignorance, which is not agreeable to his most 
 blessed will, which I will ever seek to fulfil I 
 
 * * * * * » 
 
 I have so little taste for the conversation ©f this world,, 
 that it is very unpleasant to think on it. My sister's love 
 and duty to all. Mr. B. will be in the island soon,, please 
 God, and then you are to write to her. Desire my brother 
 to write too, and direct her to the house of God in Bath^ 
 10
 
 110 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 for she is still walking in darkness, and is ignorant of it. 
 O may the Lord be graciously pleased to bring you all into 
 his marvellous light, that you may praise him in time and 
 eternity : then strive to enter in at the strait gate. . . . 
 If the Lord shall please to spare me, I hope to see you ere 
 long ; if not in this world, in that v/here we shall bask in 
 unutterable bliss. My dear friends, take not this advice 
 amiss from your unworthy child ; it is the command of my 
 blessed Lord, "when thou art converted, remember thy 
 brethren :" and I daily take up my cross and follow him 
 whithersoever he goeth : and I pray God enable you to 
 do the same. O how should I rejoice and praise my God 
 to see you enabled, through the inspiration of the Spirit 
 of the Most High, to answer this ill-'«Titten letter ! — 
 Farewell, in the Lord, dear friends. 
 
 The third letter i-s to her sister. 
 
 LETTER in. 
 
 Cowes, October 14, 1798. 
 'My dear Sister, 
 
 I have not had a convenient opportunity to write till 
 !now : I hope you have not been unhappy at my long si- 
 ;Lence. vConsider that God is my keeper, therefore "I shall 
 Jack no manner of thing that is good." I entreat you to 
 commend the keeping of your soul, spirit, and body, to the 
 Lord, for he is a promise-making, and a true and faithful 
 promise-keeping God.
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. Ill 
 
 •'Then let me commend my Saviour to you, 
 The publican's friend and advocate too." 
 
 My dear, I say that God is my keeper : you will say, 
 he is yours — it is true, for " in him we all live, move, and 
 have our being;" but I can say with Job, "I know that 
 my Redeemer liveth," and 
 
 " He is now pleading his merits and death, 
 And still interceding for sinners beneath:" 
 
 and he is waiting to be gracious to you, for he is long- 
 suffering and kind, plenteous in goodness ; his love and 
 mercy know no end nor bounds, and his compassions fail 
 not : now, my dear, 
 
 «' Ready for you the angels wait, 
 To triumph in your blest estate: 
 Tuning their harps, they long to praise 
 The wonders of redeeming grace." 
 
 O my dear sister, search the scriptures diligently ; pray 
 to God earnestly ; for in so doing, you will find that he is 
 a God "nigh at hand, and not afar off." He has promised 
 to be found of those that seek him ; for none ever sought 
 his face in vain, neither did ever any trust in him, and was 
 deceived. O my dear sister, if you did but believe how 
 willing God is to reveal his Son in your heart, the hope of 
 glory ! O how would your soul be ravished, if Christ would 
 appear to you the altogether lovely, and the first among 
 ten thousand ! Then could you say those blessed words, 
 
 "My soul, through my Redeemer's love, 
 Saved from tlie second death I feel : 
 My eyes from fears of dark despair. 
 My feet from falling into hell.
 
 112 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Wherefore my feet to him shall run, 
 My eyes on his perfections gaze, 
 My soul shall live for God alone, 
 And all within me shout his praise." 
 
 I eutreat you to read the word of God carefully, for in it 
 is eternal life. All the promises there stand engaged to 
 make you blessed, if you truly repent, and forsake your 
 sins, and turn to God with full purpose of heart, and fully 
 believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and he will save you 
 from your sins, with a present and everlasting salvation : 
 for he says, " Only believe, and thou shalt be saved." We 
 should receive the word of God as if it was the awful 
 voice of God from heaven. It icilVhe awful to the wicked 
 
 and unconverted : O may the Lord quicken your 
 
 dead soul 
 
 " with life divine, 
 
 And make you in his image shine." 
 
 O may you feel the kindlings of love divine shed abroad 
 in your heart ! Farewell in the Lord, mv dear sister. 
 
 The following little narrative seems to have been in- 
 tended for her own private use. It is apparently left un- 
 finished. 
 
 November 30, 1800. 
 
 Elizabeth Wallbridge, born July '^O. 1770. 
 
 I feel my mind more composed when writing, and more 
 free from wandering thoughts, than at any other time ; for 
 I have little retirement, and when I have, it is seldom free 
 from disturbances^ so that I am almost continually conver- 
 sant with the world. The Lord knoweth what a burden 
 
 A
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 113 
 
 it is to my mind, and how impatient I have been. May 
 the Lord pardon his unfaithful, unprofitable servant, and 
 sanctify me throughout, soul, spirit, and body, and plunge 
 me in the Godhead's deepest sea, that I may be lost in his 
 immensity. O glorious hope of perfect love ! may it ever 
 fill and lift my ravished spirit up to things above ; there I 
 shall for ever love. 
 
 I thought I would just set down, as the Lord is pleased 
 to give me time and strength, a few of his particular mer- 
 cies and favors as I can recollect. He has abounded in 
 love and mercy to me : O that I had made him all the re- 
 turns that love could make, by giving myself a sacrifice 
 daily unto him ! But now I have to lament my short- 
 comings, and to apply to the "blood of sprinkling" which 
 speaks my sins forgiven, and purifies my soul and 
 makes it meet for heaven. O what a precious Saviour 
 have I found ! O that I could make him known to all 
 mankind, that all may turn and taste the riches of his 
 grace ! At present I am so very weak in body and mind, 
 that I can recollect but very little : it has been decaying 
 near four years ; but in the Lord Jehovah is my everlast- 
 ing strength, and whoever relies on him shall never be 
 ashamed, and shall be freed from all slavish fears. 
 
 I seemed to have some fear of God, and love to him 
 from my childhood. His restraining grace kept me from 
 falling into great and open sin, and gave me such a love to 
 truth and uprightness, that I seemed to hate every false 
 way word, and work, in myself and others. I remember 
 when I went to school, one of my playmates that I was 
 very fond of, used to take every opportunity to get money 
 from her mother unknown to her, and bring to school, and 
 buy all kinds of little toys, and then freely give me and 
 10*
 
 114 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 anotner or two an equal share with herself. But O how 
 did the Spirit of the Lord strive with me at that time, and 
 convince me of the evil, so that I had no peace of mind 
 whilst I partook of the sin, and yet I had not strength to 
 resist it. It was so on my mind that I ought to make her 
 fault known, not to conceal it and partake of part. I could 
 see it a great evil in the person that sold her the things, 
 whose daughter took part, and, I believe, knew as well as 
 I did how she came by it ; but I never revealed it, though 
 I always bore it on my mind with abhorrence. What a 
 sad thing to yield to sin, against such clear convictions ! 
 
 I was early taught a form of prayer, which I continued 
 to repeat in a careless manner when I was laid down in 
 bed, but very often I fell asleep before I said them half. 
 But, blessed be God, he still spared me, and often drew 
 me to himself by the cords of love : for at an early age he 
 drew me to secret prayer, where I often felt the kindlings 
 of his love ; but had none to set me forward, so that I 
 often neglected this duty ; but when alone, I ^lave often 
 felt great sweetness in it. I believe if I had heard the 
 Gospel preached, I should have been very early devoted 
 to that God I now love and adore. But I do not yet love 
 him as he has promised I shall, with all my loving heart, 
 when sin is all destroyed. O happy moment, how I long 
 for it ! 
 
 i
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 115 
 
 The last document is 
 
 HER WILL. 
 
 My dear father, and mother, and brothers — If it should 
 please the Lord to spare you all, till after my decease, I 
 take this opportunity to set down what I simply desire, if 
 it be the Lord's will, and agreeable to you all. If I die 
 under this roof, it will be best, as soon as I am dead, to 
 
 have my coffin made ; let Mr. make it, if it is quite 
 
 agreeable : and then I can be carried down stairs, not to 
 disturb you, or break your rest. And there the angels of 
 my covenant-making and promise-keeping God will watch 
 over me and protect my sleeping dust ; so that you need not 
 fear any evil spirit, for they will have done with me for 
 ever, they will never assault me any more ; I shall then, 
 through Christ, who hath loved me with an everlasting 
 love, gain the glorious victory over all the principalities 
 and powers of darkness ; for they know that I am a re- 
 deemed captive from their power, though they cease not 
 to tempt me to return to my former customs, that I may 
 be again in bondage to fear : but glory be given to God, 
 his grace is sufficient for me ; hitherto he hath brought 
 me safe through, and I know he will save to the end. May 
 I lift up my heart to him and cry — O thou 
 
 "Fairer than the sons of men, 
 Do not let me turn again." 
 
 Let my coffin be very plain, neat, and strong, made to 
 cover very close. Let it be made white inside and out, if 
 no trouble ; and for my shroud a little wool will do, if you
 
 116 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 like it : it will be less expense ; for it will all turn to dust 
 I care not who you ask to my funeral ; I want no form of 
 young people, I had rather have those that love God, that 
 they may rejoice over me with angels above, and praise a 
 God of love. [She then names several friends whom she 
 desired to be present, and proceeds.] Let them all meet 
 together that can or will come . . . and I trust they will 
 feel the Lord powerfully present in the midst to bless 
 every waiting soul, and reveal the secrets of his love. Mr. 
 Richmond, or the minister of Newchurch, which you 
 please ; I love them both, because they love God : for 
 " God is love ;" and his love constrains us to love one 
 another Do not be afraid of disturbing the peace- 
 ful dead in singing praises to God and the Lamb who hath 
 redeemed me from sin. It may be, my happy spirit may 
 be permitted to join with listening angels who catch the 
 approving sound, while all heaven's host cry — a child is 
 born into our world above. 
 
 Let these hymns be sung : the 37th, " Hosanna to 
 Jesus on high;" the 35th, " 'Tis finished, 'tis done ;" the 
 33rc1, " Ah lovely appearance of death ;" the 50th, in the 
 large book, " Hark, a voice divides the sky." If the 
 preacher please, for the glory of God, and the good of the 
 living, let him preach a sermon from Psalm cxvi. 15 — 
 " Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his 
 saints :" and may the word be atttended with power ; a 
 divine energy and the quickening influence of the Spirit 
 of God rest upon the ministers and the hearers, that glory 
 may be given to God, and great good done in his precious 
 name ; that his saints that love him may be strengthened 
 and refreshed and built up in their most holy faith ; that 
 they may go on their way rejoicing in the strength of the
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 117 
 
 Lord, from grace to grace, till glory end what grace be- 
 gan ; that they may be fully prepared to meet death with 
 Christian courage. And may all my dear friends follow 
 on to know the Lord, and experimentally to feel the saving 
 power of divine grace in each of their hearts, that they 
 may give glory to God, and triumphantly quit the stage 
 of mortality, shouting Victory through the blood of the 
 Lamb that was slain, who now is ascended on high for ever 
 to reign. But I would have all to remember, if they have 
 never yet been convinced of their lost and miserable state 
 by nature, that it is high time for them to avv^ake out of 
 sleep, and cry mightily to God to show them their danger, 
 and save them from destruction. For without faith and 
 prayer you cannot be saved. Then come like the humble 
 publican, with a feeling sense of your sins, and true faith 
 in HIS merits to atone for your sins, and cleanse your 
 guilty souls, and you will be sure to find mercy, pardon, 
 and peace, and grace to help you in every time of need. 
 When I was brought home, I was in great hopes I should 
 see a great change ; but I have been painfully disappoint- 
 \ ed to the present moment, which often fills my heart with 
 j grief and sorrow, to see sinners so unconcerned upon the 
 brink of death. But if I am never permitted to see that 
 happy change, I hope you will experience it, and meet me 
 I in glory ; there we shall part no more. [ The remainder 
 i is occupied with the dislrihulion of her little property, con- 
 sisting almost entirely of wearing apparel, among her rela- 
 tives.']
 
 118 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 The following letters were addressed to the Dairyman's 
 daughter by Mr. Richmond. The first is merely a short 
 note, but it is inserted as a characteristic illustration of 
 the style in which he addressed her. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 It has pleased God, my Christian sister, for several 
 weeks past, to keep me in a state of sickness, from which 
 soon, by his goodness, I hope to be relieved. I am at 
 present unable to say half what I wish to you ; but lest 
 you should suspect me of inattention to your friendly and 
 welcome letter, I write these few lines to say, that you 
 shall either hear from me at length, or see me shortly. 
 May God support you through your trial of ill-health ; and 
 the nearer you approach the other world, whenever it bo 
 God's appointed time, may you be more and more heaven- 
 ly-mindod. — Peace be multiplied to you. 1 pray for you, 
 and beg you to know 
 
 How faithfully I am. 
 
 Yours in Christ, 
 
 L. Richmond
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 119 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 You may be assured, upon the faith of one who loves 
 God, and would fain serve and obey him, that you are not 
 out of my mind, though I have been prevented from doing 
 myself the pleasure of calling upon you. I have also de- 
 layed writing till now from an almost daily expectation of 
 coming your way ; but as it has happened otherwise, I 
 now acknowledge the receipt of your last letter, and rejoice 
 at the sight of words dictated by a spirit of godliness, 
 humility, and love. In a perverse and adulterous genera- 
 tion, like the present one, what can be so cheering to the 
 soul as converse with those who really know the Lord, 
 and love him because he hath first loved them ? I am 
 well convinced of the propriety and force of your advice 
 with respect to ray conduct, and that of the ministers of 
 the gospel in general, God grant such a weak and un- 
 profitable servant as I am, may find grace and ability to 
 conduct myself as becomes a faithful laborer in the vine- 
 yard ! For who can do it of his own strength 1 What 
 are the natural powers of sinful man to work out the 
 righteousness of God 1 To the Spirit of Christ, which 
 changeth and strengtheneth the inner man, we must at- 
 tribute all : to him be honor, glory, and praise in all the 
 churches, now and evermore. 
 
 I have read your two books, and find much profit in them 
 both. It appears that the life of Madame Guion should be 
 attended to with some caution, which Mr. Wesley very 
 frequently draws our observation to in his short notes at 
 the bottom of the pages. She was sometimes influenced
 
 120 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 
 
 by notions which had not a sufficiently strong scriptural 
 foundation, and therefore in these things should not be set 
 as a pattern ; but her love of God, and her anxiety to be 
 for ever joined to him, are lovely and interesting. The 
 true rule for discerning the motions and operation of the 
 blessed Spirit within us, is to compare our feelings with 
 those ways of holiness, happy fruits of the Spirit, which 
 the apostle describes : let every thing be referred to this 
 as a standard, and we never shall be mistaken. May God 
 so guide and direct you and me to all goodness, that our 
 works may glorify — not ourselves, none but Jesus can do 
 that, — but our Father which is in heaven. May numbers 
 have reason, through the mercy of God, to bless our 
 memory : and may the seed which in my ministerial ca- 
 pacity I am commissioned to sow, to plant, and to water, 
 receive its due increase from God. I assure you this lies 
 much at my heart, and occupies much of my thoughts ; 
 seeing and "knowing the terrors of the Lord," I would 
 "persuade men" with all truth, earnestness, and sin- 
 cerity, to flee from the wrath to come, and throw them- 
 selves and their sins at the foot of the cross, with 
 true repentance and faith. Faith is the hand which we 
 stretch forth to receive the benefits of Christ's blood ; it 
 is the soul of the spiritual life, and the grand distinguish- 
 ing characteristic of the true Christian from the false ; 
 it is the touchstone of Christianity; the burning coal 
 which sets fire to the sacrifice on the altar ; the sun 
 which enlightens the wilderness of the world; the lantern 
 which guides our feet through the valley of the shadow of 
 death. True faith never can be separated from hope and 
 love ; they are three lovely sisters w-ho take up their 
 dwelling in the heart when it becomes the temple of the
 
 THE dairyman's DAUGHTER. 121 
 
 Holy Ghost ; their parent is God, and their offspring 
 righteous works : how do they shine forth in the midst of 
 a vain and wicked world, like a candle set upon a hill in a 
 dark and gloomy night ! May their operations spread 
 wider and wider over the face of the world, and may the 
 church of God increase in their fruits, till at length the 
 happy time shall arrive when the kingdoms of this world 
 shall become the kingdom of the Lord and his anointed. 
 God hasten so blessed a period ! 
 
 I was much shocked at the sudden death of my neigh- 
 bor . Such unprepared calls ought to operate upon 
 
 those that are left behind, as salutary warnings : alive and 
 healthy this morning, who knoweth that this very night 
 our souls shall not be required of us 1 Let us be on the 
 watch, and endeavor to make others so, for we " know 
 neither the day nor the hour" of our Master's coming. I 
 am told that his successor has given some strong calls to 
 duty and attentiveness in religion, which I hope in God 
 will prove efficacious. He appears in conversation very 
 much in earnest, and seems steady and persevering ; but 
 I have only seen him twice. In that parish you well know 
 how much reformation is wanted. Alas ! into what place 
 can we go where it is not wanting? Iniquity triumphs, 
 and presumption darkens the very heavens with her wide- 
 spreading wings ; blasphemy, covetousness, and unclean- 
 ness, abound and prosper ; men are lovers of pleasure, 
 rather than lovers of God. Does not the world go just as 
 Satan would have it] Sometimes he will even suggest 
 to the faithful that their endeavors are in vain, and he 
 tempts to inactivity and sloth ; but, blessed be God, the 
 Bible is in our hands, and there we find arguments, and 
 strength, and consolation, and admonition, and precept, 
 11
 
 122 THE dairyman's daughter. 
 
 and commandment, and encouragement to proceed in the 
 mighty task of beating down the strongholds of iniquity, 
 and destroying the works of the devil. Even though "the 
 overflowings of ungodliness may make us afraid," God 
 worketh the good cause, and in the end it shall prosper. 
 The church shall never fail, nor shall the gates of hell 
 prevail against it. Your health, I hear, is weak : may God 
 strengthen the inner man as he thinks fit to weaken the 
 outer ; may his kingdom rule in your heart, though the 
 outward fortifications crumble to dust. If it please God 
 to shorten the span of your life, I trust you will meet your 
 Redeemer w'ith peace and joy, and that you will employ 
 the rest of that time vvhich is appointed you on earth in 
 promoting the cause of righteousness, in combating the 
 artifices of Satan, resisting the ways of ungodliness, con- 
 versing with God in fervent prayer and holy meditation, 
 contemplating his redeeming love, and hungering after 
 higher and higher degrees of virtue. May the prospect 
 of a heavenly inheritance keep you alive to holiness and 
 gratitude, and in looking upon the world around, remember 
 that the true spirit of the gospel teaches us to love the 
 sinner whilst w^e hate the sin. — Grace, mercy, and peace 
 be multiplied upon you from God and the Lord Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 Believe me to be 
 
 Yours, with Christian regard, 
 
 L. Richmond. 
 
 THB XND or THE SAIRTMAA S DAUGHTER.
 
 THE 
 
 NEGRO SERVANT 
 
 PART I. 
 
 If a map of the world, instead of being colored, as is 
 usual, with many gay and brilliant tints, in order to distin- 
 guish its various continents, kingdoms, and islands from each 
 other, were to be painted with darker or brighter hues cor- 
 responding with the spiritual character of the inhabitants, 
 what a gloomy aspect would be presented to the eye of 
 the Christian geographer, by the greater portion of the 
 habitable globe ! — How dark would be the shade thus cast 
 over the larger districts of the vast continents of Asia and 
 America ! and what a mass of gloom would characterize 
 the African quarter of the world ! 
 
 Here and there a bright spot would mark the residence 
 of a few missionary laborers devoting themselves to God, 
 and scattering the rays of Christian light among tlie sur- 
 rounding heathen : but over the greater part " the black- 
 ness of darkness" would emblematically describe the iron 
 reign of Mahometan superstition and Pagan idolatry. 
 
 The Christian prays that God would "have respect untx)
 
 124 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 the covenant ; for the dark places of the earth are full of 
 the habitations of cruelty." He hopes to see the nations 
 "open their eyes, and turn from darkness to light, and 
 from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive 
 forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which 
 are sanctified by faith." 
 
 The curse originally pronounced on the descendants of 
 Ham, has, in a variety of respects, both temporal and 
 spiritual, been awfully fulfilled : — " A servant of servants 
 shall he be." Slavery, as well of mind as body, has been 
 continued amongst the Africans through their generations 
 in a manner which at once proves the truth of the divine 
 prediction, and yet calls aloud for the ardent prayers and 
 active exertions of Christians in their behalf. The time 
 will come when the heathen shall be proved to have been 
 given to Christ " for an inheritance, and the uttermost 
 parts of the earth for his possession." The degraded 
 Hottentot, and the poor benighted Negro, will look from 
 the ends of the earth unto Jesus, and be saved. " Many 
 go to and fro, and knowledge shall thereby be increased." 
 The Redeemer " shall see of the travail of his soul, and 
 be satisfied," in beholding the gathering together, not only 
 of the outcasts of Israel, that are ready to perish ; but of 
 churches and people from all the tongues, and kindreds, 
 and nations of the earth. In the day of his appearing, the 
 sons of Africa will vie with their brethren of the North, 
 and the West, and the East, in resounding the praises of 
 God their Saviour, from one end of the earth to the other. 
 
 In the mean time we rejoice in every occasional in- 
 stance of the love and power of God in effecting the con- 
 version of some, who appear as the first fruits of that har- 
 vest which shall hereafter so fruitfully grow up, to the
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 125 
 
 honor of Christ and the blessedness of his redeemed 
 people. 
 
 The following narrative of real facts may, perhaps, 
 illustrate the importance of the foregoing remarks. 
 
 During a residence of some years' continuance in the 
 neighborhood of the sea, an Officer of the navy called 
 upon me, and stated that he had just taken a lodging in 
 the parish for his wife and children ; and had a Negro, 
 who had been three years in his service. " The lad is a 
 deserving fellow," said the Officer, " and he has a great 
 desire to be baptized : I have promised him to ask you to 
 do it, if you have not any objections." 
 
 " Doe.s he know any thing," replied I, " of the principles 
 of the Christian religion V 
 
 " O yes, I am sure he does," answered the Captain ; 
 " for he talks a great deal about it in the kitchen, and often 
 gels laughed at for his pains ; but he takes it all very pa- 
 tiently." 
 
 " Does he behave well as your servant ?" 
 
 " Yes, that he does ; he is as honest and civil a fellow 
 as ever came on board ship, or lived in a house." 
 
 " Was he always so well behaved ?" 
 
 " No," said the Officer ; " when J first had him, he was 
 often very unruly and deceitful ; but for the last two years 
 he has been quite like another creature." 
 
 " Well, sir, I shall be very glad to see him, and think it 
 probable I shall wish to go thn^ugh a course of instruction 
 and examination ; during which, I shall be able to form a 
 judgment how far it will be right to admit him to the sa- 
 crament of baptism. Can he read ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied his master : " he has been taking great 
 pains to learn to read for some time past, and can make 
 11*
 
 126 THE >-EGRO SERVANT. 
 
 out a chapter in the Bible pretty well, as my maid-servant 
 mforms me. He speaks English better than many of his 
 countrymen, but you will find it a httle broken. When 
 will it be convenient that I should send him over to you V 
 
 "To-morrow afternoon, sir, if you please." 
 
 " He shall come to you about four o'clock, and you shall 
 see what you can make of him." 
 
 AVith this promise he took his leave. I felt glad of an 
 opportunity of instructing a native of that land whose 
 wrongs and injuries had often caused me to sigh and 
 mourn ; the more so, when I reflected ivho had been the 
 aggressors. 
 
 At the appointed hour my negro disciple arrived. He 
 was a very young-looking man, with a sensible, lively, and 
 pleasing countenance. 
 
 I desired him to sit down, and said, " Your master in- 
 forms me, that you wish to have some conversation with 
 me respecting Christian baptism." 
 
 " Yes, sir, me very much wish to be a Christian," 
 said he. 
 
 " Why do you wish so ]" 
 
 " Because me know that Christian go to heaven when 
 ^e die." 
 
 " How long have you had that wish J" I said. 
 
 •' Ever since me heard one goot minister preach in 
 America, two years ago." 
 
 " Where were you born V 
 
 " In Africa. Me was very little boy when me was made 
 slave by the white men " 
 
 " How was that ?" 
 
 " Me left father and mother one day at home to go get 
 shells by de sea shore, and as I was stooping down to
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 127 
 
 gather them up, some white sailors came out of a boat and 
 took me away. Me never see father nor mother again." 
 
 "And what became of you then V 
 
 " Me was put into ship, and brought to Jamaica and sold 
 to a master, who kept me in his house to serve him some 
 
 years ; when, about three years ago, Captain W , my 
 
 master, dat spoke to you, bought me to be his servant on 
 board his ship. And he be goot master ; he gave me my 
 liberty, and made me free, and me live with him ever 
 since." 
 
 " And what thoughts had you about your soul all that 
 time before you went to America V I asked him. 
 
 " Me no care for my soul at all before den. No man 
 teach me one word about my soul." 
 
 '* Well, now tell me further about what happened to you 
 in America. How came you there ]" 
 
 My master take me dere in his ship, and he stop dere 
 one month, and den me hear the goot minister." 
 
 " And what did the minister say V 
 
 " He said me was great sinner." 
 
 " What, did he speak to you in particular ?" 
 
 " Yes, me tink so ; for dere was great many to hear 
 him, but he tell dem all about me." 
 
 " What did he say 3" 
 
 " He say about all de tings dat were in my heart." 
 
 " What things V 
 
 " My sin, my ignorance, my know noting, my believe 
 noting. De goot minister made me see dat me link noting 
 goot, no do noting goot." 
 
 " And what else did he tell you 7" 
 
 " He sometime look me in de face, and say, dat .Tosus 
 Christ came to die for sinners, poor black sinners, as well
 
 128 
 
 THE NEGRO SERVAN-T. 
 
 as white sinners. -\Ie tought dis was very goot, very goot 
 indeed, to do so for a wicked sinner." 
 
 " And what made you think this was all spoken to you 
 in particular]" 
 
 " Because me sure no such wicked sinner as me in all 
 de place. De goot minister must know me was dere." 
 
 "And what did you think of yourself while he preached 
 about Jesus Christ ]" 
 
 " Sir, me was very much afraid, when he said the wick- 
 ed must be turned into hell-fire. For me felt dat me was 
 very wicked sinner, and dat make me cry. And he talk 
 much about de love of Christ to sinners, and dat make me 
 cry more. And me tought me must love Jesus Christ ; 
 but me not know how, and dat make me cry again." 
 
 "Did you hear more sermons than one during that 
 month]" 
 
 "Yes, sir ; master gave me leave to go tree times, and 
 all de times me wanted to love Jesus more, and do what 
 Jesus said ; but my heart seem sometime hard, like a 
 stone." 
 
 " Have you ever heard any preaching since that time V 
 
 "Never, till me hear sermon at dis church last Sunday, 
 and den me long to b^ baptized in Jesu's name ; for me 
 had no Christian friends to baptize me when little child." 
 
 " And what have been your thoughts all the time since 
 you first heard these sermons in America ] did you tell 
 anybody then what you felt ?" 
 
 " No, me speak to nobody but to God den. De goot minis- 
 ter say, that God hear de cry of de poor ; so me cry to 
 God, and he hear me. And me often tink about Jesus 
 Christ, and wish to be like him." 
 
 " Can you read ]"
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 129 
 
 "A little." 
 
 " Who taught you to read V 
 
 " God teach me to read." 
 
 " What do you mean by saying so?" 
 
 " God give me desire to read, and that make reading 
 easy. Master give me Bible, and one sailor show me de 
 letters ; and so me learned to read by myself, with God's 
 good help.' 
 
 " And what do you read in the Bible ?" 
 
 " O ! me read all about Jesus Christ, and how he loved 
 sinners ; and wicked men killed him, and he died, and 
 came again from de grave, and all dis for poor negro. And 
 it sometime make me cry, to tink that Christ love so poor 
 negro." 
 
 " And what do the people say about your reading, and 
 praying, and attention to the things of God ?" 
 
 " Some wicked people dat do not love Jesus Christ, call 
 me great fool, and negro dog, and black hypocrite. And 
 dat make me sometime feel angry ; but den me remember 
 Christian must not be angry, for Jesus Christ was called 
 ugly black names, and he was quiet as a lamb ; and so 
 den me remember Jesus Christ, and me say noting again 
 to dem." 
 
 I was much delighted with the simplicity and apparent 
 sincerity of this poor negro ; and wished to ascertain what 
 measure of light and feeling he possessed on a few lead- 
 ing points. St. Paul's summary of religion'^ occurring to 
 me, I said, " Tell me, what is faith 1 What is your own 
 faith 1 What do you believe about Jesus Christ, and your 
 own soul?" 
 
 * Now abideth faith, hope, charity ; these three ; but the greatest of these 
 is charity. (1 Cor. xiii. 13.)
 
 130 THE ^EGRO SERVANT. 
 
 "Me believe," said he, " dat Jesus Christ came into de 
 world to save sinners, and dough me be chief of smners, 
 yet Jesus will save me, dough me be only poor black 
 negro." 
 
 " What is your hope ? What do you hope for, both as 
 to this life and that which is to come ]" 
 
 " Me hope Jesus Christ will take goot care of me, and 
 keep me from sin and harm, while me live here ; and me 
 hope, when me come to die, to go and live with him al- 
 ways, and never die again." 
 
 " What are your thoughts about Christian love or chari- 
 ty 1 I mean, whom and what do you most love V 
 
 " Me love God de Father, because he was so goot to 
 send his Son. Me love Jesus Christ, because he love 
 men. Me love all men, black men and white men too ; 
 for God made dem all. Me love goot Christian people, 
 because Jesus love dem, and dey love Jesus." 
 
 Such was my first conversation with this young disci- 
 ple ; I rejoiced in the prospect of receiving him into the 
 church, agreeably to his desire. I wished, however, to 
 converse somewhat further, and inquire more minutely 
 into his conduct ; and promised to ride over, and see him 
 in a few days at his master's lodgings. 
 
 When he was gone, I thought within myself, God has 
 indeed redeemed souls by the blood of his Son, " out of 
 every kindred and tongue, and people and nation." If 
 many of them for a season are devoted to earthly slavery,* 
 through the cruel avarice of man ; yet, blessed be God, 
 some amongst them are, through divine grace, called to 
 the glorious liberty of the children of God ; and so are re- 
 
 * This circumstance took place before Uie late abolition of the slave trade.
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 131 
 
 deemed from the slavery of him who takes so many cap- 
 tive at his will. 
 
 It is a happy thought, that " Ethiopia shall soon stretch 
 forth her hands unto God. Sing unto God, ye kingdoms 
 of the earth. O sing praises unto the Lord." 
 
 PART II. 
 
 When we endeavor to estimate the worth of an immor- 
 tal soul, we are utterly lost in the attempt. The art of 
 spiritual computation is not governed by the same princi- 
 ples and rules which guide our speculations concerning 
 earthly objects. The value of gold, silver, merchandise, 
 food, raiment, lands, and houses, is easily regulated by 
 custom, convenience, or necessity. Even the more capri- 
 cious and imaginary worth of a picture, medal, or statue, 
 may be reduced to something of systematic rule. Crowns 
 and sceptres have had their adjudged valuation ; and king- 
 doms have been bought and sold for sums of money. But 
 who can affix the adequate price to a human soul ] " What 
 shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and 
 lose his own soul ? or what shall a man give in exchange 
 for his soul V 
 
 The principles of ordinary arithmetic all fail here ; and 
 we are constrained to say, that He alone who paid the 
 ransom for sinners, and made the souls of men his " pur- 
 chased possession," can comprehend and solve the arduous 
 question. They are indeed "bought with a price:" but
 
 132 THE >-EGEO SERVANT. 
 
 are " not redeemed v»ith corruptible things, as silver and 
 gold ; but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb 
 without blemish and without spot." We shall only ascer- 
 tain the value of a soul, when we shall be fully able to 
 estimate the worth of a Saviour. 
 
 Too often have we been obliged to hear what is the 
 price which sordid unfeeling avarice has affixed to the body 
 of a poor negro slave ; let us now attempt, while we pur- 
 sue the foregoing narrative, to meditate on the value which 
 Infinite Mercy has attached to his soul 
 
 Not many days after my first interview with my negro 
 disciple, I went from home with the design of visiting and 
 conversing with him again at his master's house, which 
 was situated in a part of the parish nearly four miles dis- 
 tant from my own. The road which I took lay over a 
 lofty down, which commands a prospect of scenery seldom 
 exceeded in beauty and magnificence. It gave birth to 
 silent but instructive contemplation. 
 
 The down itself was covered with sheep, grazing on its 
 wholesome and plentiful pasture. Here and there a shep- 
 herd's boy kept his appointed station, and watched over 
 the flock committed to his care. I viewed it as an emblem 
 of my own situation and employment. Adjoining the hill 
 lay an extensive parish, wherein many souls were given 
 me to watch over, and render an account of, at the day of 
 the great Shepherd's appearing. The pastoral scene be- 
 fore me seemed to be a living parable, illustrative of my 
 own spiritual charge. I felt a prayerful wish, that the good 
 Shepherd who gave his life for the sheep, might enable me 
 to be faithful to my trust. 
 
 It occurred to me, about the same time, that my young 
 African friend was a sheep of another more distant fold,
 
 THE NEGEO SERVANT. 138 
 
 trhich Christ will yet bring to hear his voice.. For there 
 sQail be one fold and one Shepherd, and all nations shall 
 be brought to acknowledge that he alone " restoreth our 
 souls, and l^adeth us into the paths of righteousness for his 
 name's sake." On the left hand of the hill, as I advanced 
 eastward, aikl immediately under its declivity, extended a 
 beautiful tract ol land intersected by a large arm of the sea, 
 which (as the tidw was fast flowing in) formed a broad lake or 
 haven of three milos in length. Woods, villages, cottages, 
 and churches, surrounded it in most pleasing variety of 
 prospect. Beyono tiiis lay a large fleet of ships of war, and 
 not far from it anothei of merchantmen, both safe at anchor, 
 and covering a tract d' *he sea of several miles in extent. 
 Beyond this again, J BdsV the fortifications, dock-yards, and 
 extensive public edificts of a large seaport town. The 
 sun shone upon the winaowi of the buildings and the flags 
 of the ships, with great b) tt^Ltness, and added much to the 
 splendor of the view. 
 
 I thought of the concerns of empires, the plans of states- 
 men, the fate of nations, and the horrors of war. Happy 
 will be that day, when He sliall make wars to cease unto 
 the end of the earth, and peace to be established on its 
 borders ! 
 
 In the mean time let us be thankful for those vessels 
 and instruments of defence, which, in the hands of God, 
 preserve our country from the hand of the enemy and the 
 fury of the destroyer. What, thought 1, do we not owe to the 
 exertions of the numerous crews on board those ships, who 
 leave their homes to fight their country's battles, and main- 
 tain its cause, whilst we sit every man under his vine and 
 fig-tree, tasting the sweets of a tranquillity unknown to 
 most other nations in these days of conflict and bloodshed ! 
 12
 
 134 THE NEGRO SERVANT- 
 
 On my right hand, to the south and southeast, the un- 
 bounded ocean displayed its mighty waves. It was covered 
 with vessels of every size, sailing in all directions : some 
 outward bound to the most distant parts of the world ; 
 others, after a long voyage, returning home, laden with the 
 produce of remote climes : some going forth in search of 
 the enemy; others sailing back to port after the hard- 
 fought engagement, and bearing the trophies of victory in 
 the prizes which accompanied them home. 
 
 At the southwest of the spot on which I was riding, 
 extended a beautiful simicircular bay, of about nine or ten 
 miles in circumference, bounded by high cliffs of white, 
 red, and brown-colored earths. Beyond this lay a range 
 of hills, whose tops are often buried in cloudy mists, but 
 which then appeared clear and distinct. This chain of 
 hills, meeting with another from the north, bounds a large 
 fruitful vale, whose fields, now ripe for harvest, proclaimed 
 the goodness of God in the rich provision which he makes 
 for the sons of men. It is he who " prepares the corn ; he 
 crowns the year with his goodness, and his paths drop fat- 
 ness. They drop upon the pastures of the wilderness, and 
 the little hills rejoice on every side. The pastures are 
 clothed with flocks ; the valleys also are covered over with 
 corn : they shout for joy, they also sing." 
 
 , . .^ . . " The roving sight 
 Pursues its pleasing course o'er neighboring hills 
 Of many a different form and different hue; 
 Bright with the rip'ning corn, or green with grass, 
 Or dark witli clover's purple bloom." 
 
 As I looked upon the numerous ships moving before me, 
 I remembered the words of the Psalmist : " They that go 
 down to the sea in ships, that do business in great wa-
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 135 
 
 ters: these see the works of the Lord, and his won- 
 ders in the deep. For he commandeth and raiseth the 
 stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They 
 mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths ; 
 their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and 
 fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's 
 end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and 
 he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the 
 storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then 
 are they glad because they be quiet ; so he bringeth them 
 unto tlieir desired haven. Oh that men would praise the 
 Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the 
 children of men." — (Psalm cvii.) 
 
 The Negro Servant then occurred to my mind. Per- 
 haps, thought I, some of these ships are bound to Africa, 
 in quest of that most infamous object of merchandise, a 
 . cargo of black slaves. Inhuman traffic for a nation that 
 bears the name of Christian ! Perhaps these very waves, 
 which are now dashing on the rocks at the foot of this 
 hill, have, on the shores of Africa, borne witness to the 
 horrors of forced separation between wives and husbands, 
 parents and children, torn asunder by merciless men, whose 
 hearts have been hardened against the common feeling 
 of humanity by long custom in this cruel trade. " Bleysed 
 arc the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." When 
 shall the endeavors of that truly Christian /7*7enc? of the op- 
 pressed negro be crowned with success, in the abolition of 
 this wicked and disgraceful traffic 3* 
 
 * The day has since arrived, when the persevering efforts of Mr. Wilber- 
 force, to accomplish this happy purpose, have been fully answered. The 
 slave trade is abolished ! The church of God rejoices at tliis triumph of the 
 cause of Christ over the powers of darkness.
 
 136 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 As 1 pursued the meditations which this magnificent 
 and varied scenery excited in my mind, I approached the 
 edge of a tremendous perpendicular cliif, with which the 
 down terminates ; I dismounted from my horse, and tied 
 it to a bush. The breaking of the waves against the foot 
 of the cliff at so great a distance beneath me, produced an 
 incessant and pleasing murmur. The sea-gulls were fly- 
 ing between the top of the cliff where I stood, and the rocks 
 below, attending upon their nests, built in the holes of the 
 cliff. The whole scene in every direction was grand and 
 impressive : it was suitable to devotion. The Creator ap- 
 peared in the works of his creation, and called upon the 
 creature to honor and adore. To the believer, this exer- 
 cise is doubly delightful. He possesses a right to the en- 
 joyment of nature and Providence, as well as to the privi- 
 leges of grace. His title-deed runs thus: "All things 
 are yours ; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the 
 world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to 
 come ; all are yours ; and ye are Christ's, and Christ is 
 God's." 
 
 I cast my eyes downward a little to the left towards a 
 small cove, the shore of which consists of fine hard sand. 
 It is surrounded by fragments of rock, chalk-cliffs, and 
 steep banks of broken earth. Shut out from human inter- 
 course and dwellings, it seems formed for retirement and 
 contemplation. On one of these rocks I unexpectedly ob- 
 served a man sitting with a book, which he was reading. 
 The place was near two hundred yards perpendicularly 
 below me, but I soon discovered by his dress, and by the 
 black color of his features, contrasted with the w^hite rocks 
 beside him, that it was no other than my negro disciple, 
 with, as I doubted not, a Bible in his hand. I rejoiced at
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 137 
 
 this unlooked-for opportunity of meeting him in so solitary 
 and interesting a situation. I descended a steep bank, 
 winding by a kind of rude staircase, formed by fishermen 
 and shepherds' boys in the side of the cliff down to the 
 shore. 
 
 He was intent on his book, and did not perceive me till 
 I approached very near to hira. 
 
 " William, is that you ?" 
 
 " Ah ! Massa, me very glad to see you. How came 
 Massa into dis place ] Me tought nobody here, but only 
 God and me." 
 
 " I was coming to your master's house to see you, and 
 rode round by this way for the sake of the prospect. 1 often 
 come here in fine weather, to look at the sea and the ship- 
 ping. Is that your Bible 3" 
 
 " Yes, sir ;* dis my dear goot Bible." 
 
 " I am glad," said I, "to see you so well employed. It 
 is a good sign, William." 
 
 " Yes, Massa, a sign that God is goot to me ; but me 
 never goot to God." 
 
 "How so 3" 
 
 " Me never tank him enough : me never pray to him 
 enough : me never remember enough, who give me all 
 dese goot tings. Massa, me afraid my heart is very bat. 
 Me wish me was like you." 
 
 " Like me, William 1 Why, you are like me, a poor, 
 helpless sinner, that must, as well as yourself, perish in 
 his sins, unless God, of his infinite mercy and grace, pluck 
 
 * In the course of conversation, he sometimes addressed me with tlie word 
 " Massa," for " Master," according to tlic well-known habit of the negro slavea 
 in the West Indies; and sometimes " Sir," as he was taught since his arrival 
 in England ; but the former word seemed to be most familiar to him. 
 
 12*
 
 138 TJIE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 him as a brand from the burning, and make him an in- 
 stance of distinguishing love and favor. There is no dif- 
 ference ; we have both come short of the glory of God : 
 all have sinned." 
 
 " No, me not like you, Massa : me tink nobody like me, 
 nobody feel such a heart as me." 
 
 " Yes, William, your feelings, I am persuaded, are like 
 those of every truly convinced soul, who sees the exceed- 
 ing sinfulness of sin, and the greatness of the price which 
 Christ Jesus paid for the sinner's ransom. You can say 
 in the words of the hymn, 
 
 » I the chief of sinners am, 
 But Jesus died for me.' " 
 
 " O yes, sir, me believe that Jesus died for poor negro. 
 What would become of poor wicked negro, if Christ no 
 die for him? But he die for de chief of sinners, and dat 
 make my heart sometime quite glad." 
 
 " What part of the Bible were you reading, William ]" 
 
 " Me read how de man upon de cross spoke to Christ, 
 and Christ spoke to him. Now dat man's prayer just do 
 for me : ' Lord, remember me.' Lord, remember poor ne- 
 gro sinner : dis is my prayer every morning, and some- 
 time at night too ; when me cannot tink of many words, 
 den me say de same again ; Lord, remember poor negro 
 sinner." , 
 
 "And be assured William, the Lord hears that prayer. 
 He pardoned and accepted the thief upon the cross, and 
 he will not reject you ; he will in no wise cast out any 
 that come to him." 
 
 "No, sir, I believe it; but dere is so much sin in my 
 heart, it make me afraid and sorry. Massa, do you see
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 139 
 
 dese limpets,* how fast dey stick to de rocks here 1 Just 
 60, sin stick fast to my heart." 
 
 " It may be so, William : but take another comparison: 
 do you cleave to Jesus Christ by faith in his death and 
 righteousness, as those limpets cleave to the rock, and 
 neither seas nor storms shall separate you from his love." 
 
 " Dat is just what me want." 
 
 " Tell me, William, is not that very sin which you speak 
 of, a burden to you 1 You do not love it ; you w^ould be glad 
 to obtain strength against it, and to be freed from it ; would 
 you not r' 
 
 "O yes ; me give all dis world, if me had it, to be with- 
 out sin." 
 
 " Come then, and welcome, to Jesus Christ, my brother; 
 his blood cleanseth from all sin. He gave himself as a 
 ransom for sinners. He hath borne our grief and carried 
 our sorrows. He was wounded for our transgressions ; 
 he was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our 
 peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are healed. 
 The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. Come, 
 freely come to Jesus, the Saviour of sinners." 
 
 "Yes, Massa," said the poor fellow, weeping, "me will 
 come : but me come very slow ; very slow, Massa, me 
 want to run, me want to fly. Jesus is very goot to poor 
 negro, to send you to tell him all dis." 
 
 " But this is not the first time you have heard these 
 truths ]" 
 
 " No, sir, dey have been comfort to my soul many times, 
 since me hear goot minister preach in America, as me tell 
 you last week at your house." 
 
 * A kind of shell-fisli, which abound in the place where we were, and 
 which stick to the rocks witli exceeding great force.
 
 140 THE ^■EGEO SERVANT. 
 
 " Well, now I hope, William, that since God has been 
 so graciously pleased to open your eyes, and affect your 
 mind with such a gi-eat sense of his goodness, in giving his 
 Son to die for your sake ; I hope that you do your endeav- 
 or to keep his commandments : I hope you strive to be- 
 have well to your master and mistress, and fellow-ser- 
 vants. He that is a Christian inwardly will be a Christian 
 outwardly ; he that truly and savingly believes in Christ, 
 will show his faith by his works, as the Apostle says. Is 
 it not so, William ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, me want to do so. Me want to be faithful. 
 Me sorry to tink how bat servant me vras, before de goot 
 tings of Jesus Christ come to my heart. Me wish to do 
 well to my Massa, when he see me and when he not see 
 me ; for me know God always see me. Me know, dat if 
 me sin against mine own Massa, me sin against God, and 
 God be very angry with me. Beside, how can me love 
 Christ, if me do not what Christ tell me ? Me love my fel- 
 low-servants, dough, as I tell you before, dey do not much 
 love me, and I pray God to bless dem. And when dey 
 say bat things, and try to make me angry, den me tink, if 
 Jesus Christ were in poor negro's place, he would not re- 
 vile and answer again with bat words and temper, but he 
 say little, and pray aiuch. And so den me say noting at 
 all, but pray to God to forgive dem." 
 
 The more I conversed with this African convert, the 
 more satisfactory were the evidences of his mind being 
 spiritually enlightened, and his heart effectually wrought 
 upon by the grace of God. 
 
 The circumstances of the place in which we met toge- 
 ther, contributed much to the interesting effect which the 
 conversation produced on my mind. The little cove or bay
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 141 
 
 was beautiful in the extreme. The air was calm and se- 
 rene. The sun shone, but we were sheltered from its 
 rays by the cliffs. One of these was stupendously lofty 
 and large. It was white as snow ; its summit hung di- 
 rectly over our heads. The sea-fowl were flying around 
 it. Its whiteness was occasionally checkered with dark- 
 green masses of samphire, which grew there. On the 
 other side, and behind us, was a more gradual declivity of 
 many-colored earths, interspersed with green patches of 
 grass and bushes, and little streams of water trickling 
 down the bank, and mingling with the sea at the bottom. 
 At our feet the waves were advancing over shelves of 
 rocks covered with a great variety of sea-weeds, which 
 swam in little fragments, and displayed much beauty and 
 elegance of form, as they were successively thrown upon 
 the sand. 
 
 Ships of war and commerce were seen at different dis- 
 tances. Fishermen were plying their trade in boats nearer 
 the shore. The noise of the flowing tide, combined with 
 the voices of the sea-gulls over our heads, and now and 
 then a distant gun, fired from the ships as they passed 
 along, added much to the peculiar sensations to which the 
 scene gave birth. Occasionally the striking of oars upon 
 the waves, accompanied by the boatman's song, met the 
 ear. The sheep aloft upon the down sometimes mingled 
 their bleatings with the other sounds. Thus all nature 
 seemed to unite in impressing an attentive observer's heart 
 with affecting thoughts. 
 
 I remained for a considerable time in conversation with 
 the negro, finding that his master was gone from home for 
 the day, and had given him liberty for some hours. I spoke 
 to liim on the nature, duty, and privilege of ('hristian bap-
 
 142 THE NEGKO SERYA>'T. 
 
 tism ; pointed out to hira, from a prayer-book which I had 
 with me, the clear and scriptural principles of our own 
 church upon that head, and found that he was very desir- 
 ous of conforming to them. He appeared to me to be wel 
 qualified for receiving that sacramental pledge of his Re- 
 deemer's love ; and I rejoiced in the prospect of beholding 
 him no longer a " stranger and foreigner, but a fellow- 
 citizen with the saints, and of the household of God." 
 
 " God," said I to him, " has promised to ' sprinkle many 
 nations,' not only with the waters of baptism, but also with 
 the dews of his heavenly grace. He says, he will not only 
 *pour water on him that is thirsty,' but, 'I will pour my 
 Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine off- 
 spring.' " 
 
 " Yes, Massa," said he, " he can make me to be clean 
 in heart, and of a right spirit ; he can purge me wid hys- 
 sop, and I shall be clean ; he can wash me, and I shall be 
 whiter dan snow." 
 
 " May God give you these blessings, and confirm you in 
 every good gift I" 
 
 I was much pleased with the affectionate manner in 
 which he spoke of his parents, from whom he had been 
 stolen in his childhood : and his wishes that God might 
 direct them by some means to the knowledge of a Sa- 
 viour. 
 
 " Who knows," I sai-d, "but some of these ships may be 
 carrying a missionary to the country where they live, to 
 declare the good news of salvation to your countrymen, 
 and to your own dear parents in particular, if they are yet 
 ahve 3" 
 
 " O ! my dear fader and moder : my dear gracious Sa- 
 viour," exclaimed he, leaping from the ground as he spoke,
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 143 
 
 " if thou wilt but save deir souls, and tell dera what dou 
 hast done for sinner — but — " 
 
 He stopped and seemed much affected. 
 
 "My friend," said I, "I will now pray with you for 
 your own soul, and for those of your parents also." 
 
 " Do, Massa, dat is very good and kind ; do pray for 
 poor negro souls here and everywhere." 
 
 This was a new and solemn "house of prayer." The 
 sea-sand was our floor, the heavens were our roof, the 
 clifTs, the rocks, the hills, and the waves, formed the walls 
 of our chamber. It was not indeed a " place where prayer 
 was wont to be made ;" but for this once it became a hal- 
 lowed spot ; it will, by me, ever be remembered as such. 
 The presence of God was there — I prayed. — The Negro 
 wept. — His heart was full. I felt with him, and could not 
 but weep likewise. 
 
 The last day will show whether our tears were not the 
 tears of sincerity and Christian love. 
 
 It was time for my return : I leaned upon his arm, as 
 we ascended the steep cliff in my way back to my horse, 
 which I had left at the top of the hill. Humility and 
 thankfulness were marked in his countenance. I leaned 
 upon his arm with the feelings of a brother. It was a re- 
 lationship I was happy to own. — I took him by the hand at 
 parting, appointed one more interview previous to tlie daj 
 of baptizing him, and bade him farewell for the present. 
 
 " God bless you, my dear Massa !" 
 
 " And you, my fell«w Christian, for ever and ever."
 
 144 THE KEGKO SERVAT^T. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 The interesting and affecting conversation which I had 
 with the Negro Servant, produced a sensation not easy to 
 be expressed. As I returned home, I was led into medita- 
 tion on the singular clearness and beauty of those evi- 
 dences of faith and conversion of heart to God, which I 
 had just seen and heard. How plainly, I thought, it ap- 
 pears, that salvation is " freely by grace through faith ; 
 and that not of ourselves ; it is the gift of God ; not of 
 works, lest any man should boast." What but the Holy 
 Spirit, who is the author and giver of the life of grace, 
 could have wrought such a change from the once dark, 
 perverse, and ignorant heathen, to this now convinced, 
 enlightened, humble, and believing Christian ? How 
 manifestly is the uncontrolled sovereignty of the divine 
 will exercised in the calling and translating of sinners 
 from darkness to light ! what a lesson may the nominal 
 Christian of a civilized country sometimes learn from the 
 simple, sincere religion of a converted heathen I 
 
 I afterward made, particular inquiry into this young 
 man's domestic and general deportment. Every thing I 
 heard was satisfactory ; nor could I entertain a doubt re- 
 specting the consistency of his conduct and character. I 
 had some further conversations with him, in the course of 
 which I pursued such a plan of scriptural instruction and 
 examination, as I conceived to be the most suitable to his 
 progressive state of mind. He improved much in reading, 
 carried his Bible constantly with him, and took every op- 
 portunity, which his duty to his master's service would
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 1^ 
 
 allow, for perusing it. I have frequently had occasion to- 
 observe, that amongst the truly religious poor, who have* 
 not had the advantage of being taught to read in early 
 youth, a concern about the soul, and a desire to know the 
 word of God, have proved effectual motives for their learn- 
 ing to read with great ease and advantage to themselves 
 and others. It was strikingly so in the present case. 
 
 I had, for a considerable time, been accustomed to meet 
 some serious persons once a week, in a cottage at no great 
 distance from the house where he lived, for the purpose 
 of religious conversation, instruction, and prayer. Having 
 found these occasions remarkably useful and interesting, J 
 thought it would be very desirable to take the Negro 
 there, in order that there might be other witnesses to the 
 simplicity and sincerity of real Christianity, as exhibited 
 in the character of this promising young convert. I hoped 
 it might prove an eminent mean of grace to excite and' 
 quicken the spirit of prayer and praise amongst some of 
 my parishioners, over whose spiritual progress I was 
 anxiously watching. 
 
 I accordingly obtained his master's leave that he should 
 attend me to one of my cottage assemblies. His mastery 
 who was thoroughly convinced of the extraordinary change, 
 in conduct and disposition, which religion had produced in 
 his servant, was pleased with my attention to him, and 
 always spoke well of his behavior. 
 
 I set out on the day appointed for the interview. The 
 cottage at which we usually assembled was near four 
 miles distant from my own residence ; my road lay along 
 the foot of the hill mentioned in my last account of the 
 Negro, from the summit of which so luxuriant a prospect 
 was seen. On ray right hand the steep acclivity of the 
 13
 
 146 
 
 THE NEGKO SERVANT. 
 
 hill intercepted all prospect, except that of numerous sheep 
 feeding on its rich and plentiful produce. Here and there 
 the nearly perpendicular side of a chalk-pit varied the 
 surface of the hill, contrasting a dazzling white to the 
 sober green of the surrounding bank. 
 
 On the left hand, at the distance of near half a mile, 
 the tide flowed from the sea into a lake or haven of con- 
 siderable length and breadth. At one end of it, fishing 
 and pilot vessels lay at anchor ; at the other appeared the 
 parish church amongst the adjoining woods and fields. 
 The bells v.-ere ringing: a gently swelling sound was 
 brought along the surface of the water, and an echo re- 
 turned from a prominent part of the hill, beneath which I 
 was riding- The whole scene was delightful. 
 
 I passed some rural and beautifully situated cottages, 
 which seemed to be formed as fit residences for peace and 
 tranquillity; each was surrounded by a garden, and each 
 had a little orchard or field adjacent, where the husband- 
 man's cov." enjoyed her own pasture, and at the same time 
 prepared rich provision for her owner's family. Such was 
 the wise and considerate allotment which the landlords 
 and farmers had liere made for the laboring poor. The 
 wholesome vegetable, the medicinal herb, and the sweet- 
 scented flower intermingled as they grew around these 
 little dv.-ellings, and reminded me, as I looked upon them, 
 how comfortable is the lot of the industrious poor, whose 
 hearts have learned the lesson of gratitude, in the school 
 uf heaf.enly wisdom. For them, as mercifully as for their 
 richest neighbor, the sun shines, the rain descends, the 
 earth brings forth her increase, the flower blossoms, the 
 birds sing ; their wants are few, and contentment makes 
 them less. How great the blessings of being poor in thig
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 147 
 
 world, but rich in faith, and a chosen inheritance in a 
 better ! 
 
 I knew that this was the character of some whose hum- 
 ble, but neat and cleanly cottages I passed. A few such 
 features in the prospect rendered it most lovely. Peace 
 be to their memory, both as pilgrims and strangers here ; 
 and as ransomed souls, whom I hope to meet in glory here- 
 after ! J 
 
 The house to which I was travelling was situated at the 
 corner of an oak wood, which screened it both from the 
 burning heat of summer suns and the heavy blasts of 
 winter southwest storms. As I approached it, I saw my 
 friend the Negro sitting under a tree, and waiting my ar- 
 rival. He held in his hand a little tract which I had 
 given him ; his Bible lay on the ground. He rose with 
 much cheerfulness, saying, " Ah, Massa, me very glad to 
 see you ; me tink you long time coming." 
 
 " William, I hope you are well. I am going to take 
 you with me to a few of my friends, who, I trust, are truly 
 sincere in their religious pursuits. We meet every Wed- 
 nesday evening for conversation about the things that 
 belong to our everlasting peace, and I am sure you will 
 be a welcome visiter." 
 
 " Massa, me not goot enough to be with such goot peo- 
 ple. Me great sinner. Dey be goot Christian." 
 
 "If you were to ask them, William, they would each 
 tell you they were worse than others. Many of them 
 were once, and that not very long ago, living in an openly 
 sinful manner, ignorant of God, and the enemies of Jesus 
 Christ by thought and deed. But divine grace stopped 
 them in their wicked course, and subdued their hearts to 
 the love and obedience of him and his gospel. You will
 
 148 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 only meet a company of poor fellow-sinners, who love to 
 speak and sing the praises of redeeming love ; and I am 
 sure, William, that is a song in which you will be willing 
 to join them." 
 
 " O ! yes, sir ; dat song just do for poor Negro." 
 
 By this time we had arrived at the cottage garden gate. 
 Several well-known faces appeared in and near the house, 
 and the smile of affection welcomed us as we entered. It 
 was known that the Negro was to visit the little society 
 this evening, and satisfaction beamed on every counte- 
 nance, as I took him by the hand and introduced him 
 among them, saying, " I have brought a brother from Af- 
 rica to see you, my friends. Bid him welcome in the 
 name of the Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 " Sir," said an humble and pious laborer, whose heart 
 and tongue always overflowed with Christian kindness, 
 "we are at all times glad to see our dear minister, but es- 
 pecially so to-day in such company as you have brought 
 with you. We have heard how merciful the Lord has 
 been to him. Give me your hand, good friend, (turning 
 to the Negro.) God be with you hero and everywhere ; 
 and blessed be his holy name for calling sinners, as I hope 
 lie has done you and me, to love and serve him for his 
 mercy's sake." 
 
 Each one greeted him as he came into the house, and 
 some addressed him in very kind and impressive lan- 
 guage. 
 
 " Massa," said he, " me not know what to say to all 
 dese goot friends ; me tink dis look a little like heaven 
 upon earth." 
 
 He then, with tears in his eyes, which almost, l»efore he 
 spoke, brought responsive drops into those of many pres-
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. M|9 
 
 ent, said, " Goot friends and bredren in Christ Jesus, Got 
 bless you all, and bring you to heaven at de last." 
 
 It was rny stated custom, when I met to converse with 
 these cottagers, to begin with prayer and reading a portion 
 of the scriptures. 
 
 When this was ended, I told the people present, that 
 the providence of God had placed this young man for a 
 time under my ministry ; and that, finding him seriously 
 disposed, and believing him to be very sincere in his reli- 
 gious profession, I had resolved on baptizing him agreea- 
 bly to his own wishes. I added, that I had now brought 
 him with me to join in Christian conversation with us ; 
 for, as in old times they that feared the Lord spake often 
 one to another, in testimony that they thought upon his name, 
 (Mai. iii, 16,) so I hoped we were fulfilling a Christian and 
 brotherly duty in thus assembling for mutual edification. 
 
 Addressing myself to the Negro, I said, " William, tell 
 me who made you." 
 
 " Got, the goot Fader." 
 
 " Who redeemed you ?" 
 
 "Jesus, his dear son, who died for me." 
 
 " Who sanctified you ?" 
 
 "The Holy Ghost, who teach me to know de goot 
 Fader, and his dear Son Jesus." 
 
 " What was your state by nature ?" 
 
 " Me wicked sinner, me know noting but sin, me do 
 noting but sin, rny soul more black dan my body." 
 
 " Has any change taken place in you since then ?" 
 
 " Me hope so, Massa, but me sometiiiie afraid no." 
 
 " If you are changed, who changed you ?" 
 
 " Got, de goot Fader ; Jesus, his dear son ; and Got, de 
 Holy Spirit." 
 
 13*
 
 150 THE >'EGRO SERVANT. 
 
 "How was any change broug-ht about in you ?" 
 
 «' Got make me a slave, when me was young little boy." 
 
 " How William, would you say, God made you a 
 slave r' 
 
 " No, massa, no : me mean, Got let me be made slave 
 by white men, to do me goot." 
 
 " How to do you good ?" 
 
 " He take me from de land of darkness, and bring me to 
 de land of light." 
 
 " Which do you call the land of light : the West India 
 Islands ?" 
 
 " No, Massa, dey be de land of Providence, but America 
 be de laud of light to me ; for dere me first hear goot min- 
 ister preach. And now dis place where I am now, is de 
 land of more light ; for here you teach me more and more 
 how goot Jesus is to sinners." 
 
 " What does the blood of Clu-ist do ? 
 
 " It cleanse from all sin : and so me hope from my sin." 
 
 " Are then all men cleansed from sin by his blood V* 
 
 " O no, Massa." 
 
 " Who are cleansed and saved ]" 
 
 " Dose dat have faith in him." 
 
 " Can you prove that out of the Bible ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir : ' He dat believeth on de son, hath everlast- 
 ing life; and he dat believeth not de Son, shall not see 
 life, but de wrath of Got abideth on him.' " (John iii. 36.) 
 
 " What is it to have faith ?" 
 
 " Me suppose dat it is to tink much about Jesus Christ, 
 to love him much, to believe all he says to be true, to pray 
 to hira very much ; and when we feel very weak and very 
 sinful, to tink dat he is very stiong and very goot, and all 
 dat for my sake.*'
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 151 
 
 " And have you such a faith as you describe ?" 
 
 " O Massa ! me tink sometimes me have no faith at all." 
 
 "Why so, William ]" 
 
 " When me want to tink about Jesus Christ, my mind 
 run about after oder things : when me want to love him, 
 my heart soon quite cold ; when me want to believe all to 
 be true what he says to sinners, me den tink it is not true 
 for me ; when me want to pray, de devil put bat, very bat 
 thoughts into me, and me never tank Christ enough. Now 
 all dis make me sometime afraid I have no faith." 
 
 I observed a very earnest glow of attention and fellow- 
 feeling in some countenances present, as he spoke these 
 words. I then said, 
 
 " I think, William, I can prove that you have faith, not- 
 withstanding your fears to the contrary. Answer me a 
 few more questions. 
 
 "Did you begin to think yourself a great sinner, and to 
 feel the want of a Saviour, of your own self, and by your 
 own thought and doing ]" 
 
 " O ! no ; it came to me, when me tink noting about 
 it, and seek noting about it." 
 
 " Who sent the goot minister in America to awaken 
 your soul by his preaching?" 
 
 " Got, very certainly." 
 
 " Who then began the work of serious thought in your 
 mind?" 
 
 " De goot Got ; me could not do it of myself, me sure of 
 dat." 
 
 " Do you not think that Jesus Christ and his salvation 
 is the one thing most needful and most desirable ?" 
 
 " O ! yes, me quite sure of dat." 
 
 "Do you not believe that he is able to save you V
 
 152 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 " Yes, he is able to save to de uttermost." 
 
 " Do you think he is not willing to save you ?" 
 
 " Me dare not say dat. He is so goot, so merciful, so 
 kind, to say, he will in no wise cast out any dat come to him." 
 
 " Do you wish, and desire, and strive to keep his com- 
 mandments V 
 
 " Yes, Massa, because rae love him, and dat make me 
 want to do as he say." 
 
 " Are you willing- to suffer for his sake, if God should 
 call you to do so !" 
 
 " Me do tink me could die for de love of him : he not 
 tink it too much to die for wicked sinner ; why should 
 wicked sinner tink it much to die for so goot and righteous 
 a Saviour ?" 
 
 " I think and hope I may say to you, William, Thy faith 
 hath made thee whole." 
 
 Thus ended my examination for the present. The other 
 friends who were in the house listened with the most af- 
 fectionate anxiety to all that passed. One of them ob- 
 served, not without evident emotion, 
 
 " I see, sir, that though some men are white, and some 
 are black, true Christianity is all of one color. My own 
 heart has gone with this good man every word he has 
 spoken." 
 
 "And so has mine," gently re-echoed from every part 
 of the room. 
 
 After some time passed in more general conversation 
 on the subject of the Negro's history, I said, " Let us 
 now praise God for the rich and unspeakable gift of his 
 grace, and sing the hymn of redeeming love — 
 
 Now begin the heavenlj' theme, 
 Sing aloud in Jcsu's name," &c
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 1^ 
 
 which was accordingly done. Whatever might be the 
 merit of the natural voices, it was evident there was 
 spiritual melody in all their hearts. 
 
 The Negro was not much used to our way of singing, 
 yet joined w^ith great earnestness and affection, that showed 
 how truly he felt what he uttered. When the fifth verse 
 was ended. 
 
 Nothing brought him from above, 
 Nothing but redeeming love ; 
 
 he repeated the words, almost unconscious where he was. 
 
 " No, noting, noting but redeeming love, bring him down 
 to poor William ; noting but redeeming love." 
 
 The following verses were added, and sung by way of 
 conclusion : — 
 
 See, a stranger comes to view ; 
 Though he's blacit,* he's comely too ; 
 Comes to join the choirs above, 
 Singing of redeeming love. 
 
 Welcome, Negro, welcome here. 
 Banish doubt and banish fear ; 
 You, who Christ's salvation prove. 
 Praise and bless redeeming love. 
 
 I concluded with some remarks on the nature of salva- 
 tion by grace, exhorting all present to press forward in 
 the heavenly journey. It was an evening, the circum- 
 stances of which, had they never been recorded on earth, 
 were yet doubtless registered in the book of remembrance 
 above. 
 
 I then fixed thr* ilay for the baptism of the Negro, and 
 80 took leave of my little afTectionate circle. 
 
 * Song of Solomon i. 5
 
 154 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 The moon shone bright as I returned home, and was 
 beautifully reflected from the waters of the lake ; harmony 
 and repose characterized the scene. I had just been 
 uniting in the praises of the God of grace and providence , 
 and now the God of nature demanded a fresh tribute of 
 thanksgiving for the beauties and comforts of creation : 
 as David sang, " When I consider thy heavens, the work 
 of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast 
 ordained : what is man that thou art mindful of him, or 
 the son of man that thou visitest him ]" 
 
 In a few days the Negro was baptized : and not long 
 after went on a voyage with his master. 
 
 Since that time I have not been able to hear any tidings 
 of him ; whether he yet wanders as a pilgrim in this lower 
 world, or whether he has joined the heavenly choir in the 
 song of " redeeming love" in glory, I know not. This I 
 do know, he was a monument to the Lord's praise. He 
 bore the impression of the Saviour's image on his heart, 
 and exhibited the marks of divine grace in his life and 
 conversation, with sing-ular simplicity, and unfeigned sin- 
 cerity. 
 
 Give to God the glory.
 
 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 1&6 
 
 My interviews with the Negro suggested the following 
 lines, which are here subjoined, under the title of 
 
 THE NEGRO'S PRAYER. 
 
 Jesus, who mak'st the meanest soul 
 
 An object of thy care, 
 Attend to what my heart would speak — 
 
 Hear a poor Negro's prayer. 
 
 For tliou, when bleeding on the cross, 
 
 Mv sins and griefs didst bear; 
 Wherefore, my Lord, thou'lt not refuse 
 
 To hear the Negro's prayer. 
 
 I was a helpless Negro boy, 
 
 That wandered on the shore : 
 Thieves took me from my parent's arms 
 
 They saw their child no more. 
 
 And yet the lot which seemed so hard 
 
 God's faithfulness did prove ; 
 For I was carried far from honcc, 
 
 To learn a Saviour's love. 
 
 Poor and despised though 1 was. 
 
 Thine arm, O God ! was nigh , 
 And when thy mercy rirst I knew, 
 
 Sure none so glad as (. 
 
 lu ign'rance long my soul had dwelt, 
 
 A rebel bold I'd been ; 
 But thy great goodness, O my God ! 
 
 Sav'd me from all my sin. 
 
 Mine was a wretched state, expos A 
 
 To men and angels' view ; 
 A slave to man, a slave to sin, 
 
 A slave to Satan too.
 
 156 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 
 
 But if tliy Son hath made me free, 
 
 Then am I free indeed ; 
 From powers of darkness, sin, and hell, 
 
 Thy love my soul has freed. 
 
 Lord, send thy word to that far land, 
 Wliere none but Negroes live ; 
 
 Teach them tlie way, the truth, the hfc, 
 Which thou alone canst give. 
 
 1 that ray father, motlier dear, 
 Might there thy mercy see ; 
 
 Tell them what Clirist has done for tJieia, 
 What Christ has done for me. 
 
 Whose God is like tlie Christian's God? 
 
 Who can with him compare 1 
 He hath compassion on my soul, 
 
 And hears a Negro's prayer. 
 
 Lord Jesus, thuu hast shed thy blood 
 For thousands such as me ; 
 
 Though some despise poor Negro slave, 
 I'm not despis'd by thee. 
 
 This is my heart's first wish below, 
 To prove thy constant care ; 
 
 Keep me from sin and danger, Lord, 
 And hear a Negro's prayer. 
 
 In heav'n the land of glory liesj 
 
 If I should enter there, 
 I'H tell the saints and angels too 
 
 Thou heard'st a Negro's prayer. 
 
 14 
 
 KNV OF THE MEORO SKAVAIIf.
 
 THE 
 
 YOUNG COTTAGER 
 
 PART I. 
 
 When a serious Christian turns his attention to the 
 barren state of the wilderness through which be is travel- 
 ling, frequently must he heave a sigh for the sins and sor- 
 rows of his fellow mortals. The renewed heart thirsts 
 with holy desire, that the Paradise, which was lost through 
 Adam, may be fully regained in Christ. But the over- 
 flowings of sin within and without, the contempt of sacred 
 institutions, the carelessness of soul, the pride of unbelief, 
 the eagerness of sensual appetite, the ambition for worldly 
 greatness, and the deep-rooted enmity of the carnal heart 
 against God : these things are as " the fiery serpents and 
 scorpions, and drought," which distress his soul, as he 
 journeys through "that great and terrible wilderness." 
 
 Sometimes, like a solitary pilgrim, he "weeps in secret 
 places," and "rivers of waters run down his eyes, because 
 men keep not the law of God." 
 
 Occasionally he meets with a few fellow-travellers, 
 whose spirit is congenial with his own, and with whom he 
 14
 
 159 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 can take "sweet counsel together." They comfort and 
 strengthen each other by the way. Each can relate some- 
 thing of the mercies of his God, and how kindly they have 
 been dealt with, as they travelled onward. The dreari- 
 ness of the path is thus beguiled, and now and then, for 
 awhile, happy experiences of the divine consolation cheer 
 their souls ; "the wilderness and the solitary place is glad 
 for them ; the desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose." 
 
 But even at the very time when the Christian is taught 
 to feel the peace of God which passeth all understanding, 
 to trust that he is personally interested in the blessings 
 of salvation, and to believe that God will promote his own 
 glory by glorifying the penitent sinner ; yet sorrows will 
 mingle with his comforts, and he will rejoice not without 
 trembling, when he reflects on the state of other men. 
 The anxieties connected with earthly relations are all 
 alive in his soul, and, through the operation of the Spirit 
 of God, become sanctified principles and motives for action. 
 As the husband and father of a family, as the neighbor of 
 the poor, the ignorant, the wicked, and the wretched ; 
 above all, as the spiritual overseer of the flock, if such be 
 his holy calling, the heart which has been taught to feel 
 for its own case, will abundantly feel for others. 
 
 But when he attempts to devise means in order to stem 
 the torrent of iniquit)% to instruct the ignorant, and to con- 
 vert the sinner from the error of his way, he cannot help 
 crying out, " Who is sufficient for these things 3" Unbe- 
 lief passes over the question, and trembles. But faith 
 quickly revives the inquirer with the cheerful assurance, 
 that " our sufficiency is of God," and saith, " Commit thy 
 way unto the Lord, and he shall bring it to pass." 
 
 When he is thus affectionately engaged for the good of 
 
 I
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGEK. 159 
 
 mankind, he will become seriously impressed with the 
 Jiecessity of early attentions to the young in particular. 
 Many around him are grown gray-headed in sin, and give 
 bat little prospect of amendment. Many of the parents 
 and heads of families are so eagerly busied in the profits, 
 pleasures, and occupations of the world, that they heed not 
 the warning voice of their instructor. Many of their elder 
 children are launching out into life, headstrong, unruly, 
 "earthly, sensual, devilish ;" they likewise treat the wis- 
 dom of God as if it were foolishness. But, under these 
 discouragements, we may often turn with hope to tlie very 
 young, to the little ones of the flock, and endeavor to teach 
 them to sing Hosannas to the son of David, before their 
 minds are wholly absorbed in the world and its allure- 
 ments. We may trust that a blessing shall attend such 
 labors, if undertaken in faith and simplicity, and that some 
 at least of our youthful disciples, like Josiah, while they 
 are yet young, may begin to seek after the God of their 
 fathers. 
 
 Such an employment, especially when blessed by any 
 actual instances of real good produced, enlivens the mind 
 with hops, and fills it with gratitude. We are thence led 
 to trust that the next generation may become more fruitful 
 unto God than the present, and the church of Christ be 
 replenished with many such as have been called into the 
 vineyard " early in the morning." And should our endeav- 
 ors for a length of time apparently fail of success, yet 
 we ought not to despair. Early impressions and convic- 
 tions of conscience have sometimes lain dormant for years, 
 and at last revived into gracious existence and maturity. 
 It was not said in vain, " Train up a child in the way he 
 should iro, and when he is old he will not depart from it."
 
 160 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 What a gratifying occupation it is to an affectionate 
 mind, even in a way of nature, to walk through the fields, 
 and lead a little child by the hand, enjoying its infantile 
 prattle, and striving to improve the time by some kind 
 word of instruction ! I wish that every Christian pilgrim ;n 
 the way of grace, as he walks through the Lord's pastures, 
 would try to lead at least one little child by the hand ; and 
 perhaps whilst he is endeavoring to guide and preserve 
 his young and feeble companion, the Lord will recompense 
 him double for all his cares, by comforting his own heart 
 in the attempt. The experiment is worth the trial. It is 
 supported by this recollection : " The Lord will come with 
 strong hand, and his arm shall rule for him. Behold his 
 reward is with him, and his work before him. He shall 
 feed his flock like a shepherd, he shall gather the lambs 
 with his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and shall 
 gently lead those that are icith young." 
 
 I shall plead no further apology for introducing to the 
 notice of my readers a few particulars relative to a young 
 female Cottager, whose memory is particularly endeared 
 to me, from the circumstance of her being, so far as I can 
 trace or discover, my first-born spiritual child in the min- 
 istry of the gospel. She was certainly the first, of whose 
 conversion to God under my own pastoral instruction, I 
 can speak with precision and assurance. 
 
 Every parent of a family knows that there is a very in- 
 teresting emotion of heart connected with the birth of his 
 first-born child. Energies and affections, to which the 
 mind has hitherto been almost a stranger, begin to unfold 
 themselves and expand into active existence, when he first 
 is hailed as a father. But may not the spiritual father be 
 allowed the possession and indulgence of a similar sensation
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 161 
 
 11 his connection with the children whom the Lord gives 
 him, as begotten through the ministry of the word of HfeT 
 If the first-born child in nature be received as a new and 
 acceptable blessing ; how much more so the first-born 
 child in grace ! I claim this privilege ; and crave permis- 
 sion, in writing what follows, to erect a monumental 
 record, sacred to the memory of a dear little child, who, I 
 trust, will, at the last day, prove my crown of rejoicing. 
 
 Jane S was the daughter of poor parents, in the vil- 
 lage where it pleased God first to cast my lot in the min- 
 istry. My acquaintance with her commenced, when she 
 was twelve years of age, by her weekly attendance at my 
 house amongst a number of children whom I invited and 
 regularly instructed every Saturday afternoon. 
 
 They used to read, repeat catechisms, psalms, hymns, 
 and portions of scripture. I accustomed them also to pass 
 a kind of free conversational examination, according to 
 their age and ability, in those subjects by which I hoped 
 to see them made wise unto salvation. 
 
 On the summer evenings I frequently used to assemble 
 this little group out of doors in my garden, sitting under 
 the shade of some trees, which protected us from the heat 
 of the sun. From hence a scene appeared which rendered 
 my occupation the more interesting. For adjoining the 
 spot where we sat, and only separated from us by a fence, 
 was the churchyard, surrounded with beautiful prospects 
 in every direction. 
 
 There lay the mortal remains of thousands, who from 
 age to age, in their different generations, had been suc- 
 cessively committed to the grave, " earth to earth, ashes 
 to ashes, dust to dust." Here, the once-famed ancestors 
 of the rich, and the less known forefathers of the poor, lay 
 14*
 
 162 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 mingling' their dust together, and alike waiting" the resur- 
 rection from the dead. 
 
 I had not far to look for subjects of warning and ex- 
 hortation suitable to my little flock of lambs that I was 
 feeding. I could point to the heaving sods that marked 
 the dilterent graves and separated them from each other, 
 and tell my pupils, that, young as they were, none of them 
 were too young to die : and that probably more than half 
 of the bodies which were buried there, were those of little 
 children. I hence took occasion to speak of the nature 
 and value of a soul, and to ask them where they expected 
 their souls to go when they departed hence and were no 
 more seen on earth. 
 
 I told them who was the "resurrection and the life," and 
 who alone could take away the sting of death. I used to 
 remind them that the hour was " coming, in the which all 
 that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come 
 forth ; they that have done good unto the resurrection of 
 life ; and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of 
 damnation." I often "availed myself of these opportunities 
 to call to their recollection the more recent deaths of their 
 own relatives, that lay buried so near us. Some had lost 
 a parent, others a brotljer or sister ; some perhaps had lost 
 all these, and were committed to the mercy of their neigh- 
 bors, as fatherless and motherless orphans. Such circum- 
 stances were occasionally useful to excite tender emotions, 
 ■favorable to serious impressions. 
 
 Sometimes I sent the children to the various stones 
 which stood at the head of the graves, and bid them learn 
 the epitaphs inscribed upon them. I took pleasure in see- 
 ing the little ones thus dispersed in the churchyard, each 
 committing to memory a few verses written in commemo-
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 108 
 
 ration of the departed. They would soon accomplish the 
 'desired object, and eagerly return to me ambitious to repeat 
 their task. 
 
 Thus rny churchyard became a book of instruction, and 
 every grave-stone a leaf of edification for my young dis- 
 ciples. 
 
 The church itself stood in the midst of the ground. It 
 was a spacious antique structure. Within those very 
 walls I first proclaimed the message of God to sinners. 
 As these children surrounded me, I sometimes pointed to 
 the church, spoke to them of the nature of public worship, 
 the value of the Sabbath, the duty of regular attendance 
 on its services, and urged their serious attention to the 
 means oi grace. I showed them the sad state of many 
 countries, where neither churches nor Bibles were known ; 
 and the no less melancholy condition of multitudes at home, 
 who sinfully neglect worship, and slight the Word of God. 
 I thus tried to make them sensible of their own favors and 
 privileges. 
 
 Neither was I at a loss for another class of objects 
 around me, from which I could draw useful instruction : 
 for many of the beauties of created nature appeared in view. 
 
 Eastward of ue extended a large river or lake of sea- 
 water, chiefly formed by the tide, and nearly enclosed by 
 land. Beyond this was a fine bay and road for ships, filled 
 with vessels of every size, from the small sloop or cutter 
 to the first-rate man of war. On the right hand of the 
 Jiaven rose a hill of peculiarly beautiful form and consider- 
 able height. Its verdure was very rich, and many hundred 
 sheep grazed upon its sides and summit. From the op- 
 posite shore of the same water a large sloping extent of 
 bank was diversified with fields, woodg, hedges, and cot-
 
 164 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 tages. At its extremity stood, close to the edge of the sea 
 itself, the remains of the tower of an ancient church, still 
 preserved as a sea-mark. Far beyond the bay, a very dis* 
 tant shore was observable, and land beyond it ; trees, 
 towns, and other buildings appeared, more especially when 
 gilded by the reflected rays of the sun. 
 
 To the southwest of the garden was another down 
 covered also with flocks of sheep, and a portion of it fringed 
 with trees. At the foot of this hill lay the village, a part 
 of which gradually ascended to the rising ground on which 
 the church stood. 
 
 From the intermixture of houses with gardens, orchards, 
 and trees, it presented a very pleasing aspect. Several 
 fields adjoined the garden on the east and north, where a 
 number of cattle were pasturing. My own little shrub- 
 beries and flower-beds variegated the view, and recom- 
 pensed my toil in rearing them, as well by their beauty as 
 their fragrance. 
 
 Had the sweet Psalmist of Israel sat in this spot, he 
 would have glorified God the Creator by descanting on 
 these his handy-works. I cannot write Psalms like David; 
 but I wish in my own poor way to praise the Lord for his 
 goodness, and to show forth his wonderful works to the 
 children of men. But had David been also surrounded 
 with a troop of young scholars in such a situation, he 
 would once more have said, " Out of the mouths of babes 
 and sucklings hast thou ordained strength." 
 
 I love to retrace these scenes — they are past, but the 
 recollection is sweet. 
 
 I love to retrace them — for they bring to my mind many 
 former mercies, which ought not, for the Lord's sake, to 
 be forgotten.
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 16S 
 
 I love to retrace them — for they reassure me that, in 
 the course of that private ministerial occupation, God was 
 pleased to give me so valuable a fruit of my labors. 
 
 Little Jane used constantly to appear on these weekly 
 seasons of instruction. I made no very particular observa- 
 tions concerning her during the first twelve months or 
 more after her commencement of attendance. She was 
 not then remarkable for any peculiar attainment. On the 
 whole, I used to think her rather more slow of apprehen- 
 sion than most of her companions. She usually repeated 
 her task correctly, but was seldom able to make answers 
 to questions for which she was not previously prepared 
 with replies — a kind of extempore examination in which 
 some of the children excelled. Her countenance was not 
 engaging, her eye discovered no remarkable liveliness. 
 She read tolerably well, took pains, and improved in it. 
 
 Mildness and quietness marked her general demeanor. 
 She was very constant in her attendance on public wor- 
 ship at the church, as well as on my Saturday instruction 
 at home. But, generally speaking, she was little noticed, 
 except for her regular and orderly conduct. Had I then 
 been asked, of which of my young scholars I had formed 
 the most favorable opinion, poor Jane might probably have 
 been altogether omitted in the list. 
 
 How little do we oftentimes know what God is doing in 
 other people's hearts ! What poor calculators and judges 
 we frequently prove, till he opens our eyes ! His thoughts 
 are not our thoughts ; naither are our ways his ways. 
 
 Once, indeed, during the latter part of that year, I was 
 struck with her ready attention to my wishes. I had, 
 agreeably to the plan above mentioned, sent her into the 
 churchyard to commit to memory an epitaph which I ad-
 
 166 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 mired. On her return she told me, that, in addition to 
 what I had desired, she had also learned another, which 
 was inscribed on an adjoining stone ; adding, that she 
 thought it a very pretty one. 
 
 I thought so too, and perhaps :ny readers will be of the 
 same opinion. Little Jane, though dead, yet shall speak. 
 While I transcribe the lines, I can powerfully imagine 
 that I hear her voice repeating them ; the idea is exceed- 
 ingly gratifying to me. 
 
 EPITAPH OX ^mS. A. B. 
 
 Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear, 
 That mourns thy exit from a world like tliis 
 
 Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here, 
 And stay'd thy progress to the seats of bliss. 
 
 No more conlin'd to grov'lling scenes of night, 
 
 No more a tenant pent in mortal clay, 
 Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight, 
 
 And trace tliy journey to the realms of day. 
 
 The above was her appointed task ; and the other, 
 which she voluntarily learned and spoke of with pleasure, 
 is this : 
 
 EPITAPH, ON THE STONE ADJOINING. 
 
 It must be so — Our father Adam's fall, 
 And disobedience, brought this lot on all. 
 All die in him— But hopeless should we be, 
 Blest Revelation ! were it not for thee. 
 
 Hail, glorious Gospel ; heavenly light, whereby 
 We live with comlbrt, and with comfort die ; 
 And view beyond this gloomy scene the tomb, 
 A life of endless liappiness to come.
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 167 
 
 I afterward discovered that the sentiment expressed in 
 the latter epitaph had much affected her. But at the pe- 
 riod of this little incident I knew nothing of her mind. I 
 had comparatively overlooked her. I have often been 
 sorry for it since. Conscience seemed to rebuke me, when 
 I afterward discovered what the Lord had been doing for 
 her soul, a& if I had neglected her. Yet it was not done 
 designedly. She was unknown to us all ; except that, as 
 I since found out, her regularity and abstinence from the 
 sins and follies of her young equals in age and station 
 brought upon her many taunts and jeers from others, which 
 she bore very meekly. But at that time I knew it not. 
 
 I was young myself in the ministry, and younger in 
 Christian experience. My parochial plans had not as yet 
 assumed such a principle of practical order and inquiry, 
 as to make me acquainted with the character and conduct 
 of each family and individual in my flock. 
 
 I was then quite a learner, and had much to learn. 
 
 And what am I now 1 — A learner still : and if I have 
 learned any thing, it is this, that I have every day more 
 and more yet to learn. Of this I am certain ; that my 
 young scholar soon became my teacher. I first saw what 
 true religion could accomplish, in witnessing her expe- 
 rience of it. The Lord once "called a little child unto 
 him, and set him in the midst of his disciples," as an em- 
 blem and an illustration of his doctrine. But the Lord 
 did more in the case of little Jane. He not only called 
 ?ier, as a child, to show, by a similitude, what conversion 
 means ; but he also called her by his grace to be a vessel 
 of mercy and a living witness of that almighty power and 
 love, by which her own heart was turned to God.
 
 168 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 There is no illustration of the nature and character of 
 the Redeemer's kingdom on earth which is more grateful 
 to contemplation, than that of the shepherd and his flock. 
 Imagination has been accustomed from our earliest child- 
 hood to wander amongst the fabled retreats of the Arca- 
 dian shepherds. We have probably often delighted our- 
 selves in our own native country, by witnessing the in- 
 teresting occupation of the pastoral scene. The shep- 
 herd, tending his flock on the side of some spacious hill, 
 or in the hollow of a sequestered valley ; folding them at 
 night, and guarding them against all danger ; leading 
 them from one pasture to another, or for refreshment to 
 the cooling waters — these objects have met and gratified 
 our eyes, as we travelled through the fields, and sought 
 out creation's God amidst creation's beauties. The poet 
 and the painter have each lent their aid to cherish our de- 
 light in these imaginations. Many a descriptive verse 
 has strengthened our attachment to the pastoral scene, 
 and many a well- wrought picture has occasioned it to glow 
 like a reality in our ideas. 
 
 But far more impressively than these causes can possi- 
 bly effect, has the Word of God endeared the subject to 
 our hearts, and sanctified it to Christian experience. Who 
 does not look back with love and veneration to those days 
 of holy simplicity, when patriarchs of the church of God 
 lived in tents and watched their flocks 1 With what a 
 strength and beauty of allusion do the Prophets refer to 
 the intercourse between the shepherd and flock for an
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 169 
 
 illustration of the Saviour's kingdom on earth ! The 
 Psalmist rejoiced in the consideration that the Lord was 
 his Shepherd, and that therefore he should not want. 
 The Redeemer himself assumed this interesting title, and 
 declared that " his sheep hear his voice, he knows them 
 and they follow him, and he gives unto them eternal 
 life." 
 
 Perhaps at no previous moment was this comparison 
 ever expressed so powerfully, as when his risen Lord gave 
 the pastoral charge to the lately offending but now peni- 
 tent disciple, saying, " Feed my sheep." Every principle 
 of grace, mercy, and peace, met together on that occasion. 
 Peter had thrice denied his Master : his Master now thrice 
 asked him, " Lovest thou me ]" Peter each time appealed 
 to his own, or to his Lord's consciousness of what he felt 
 within his heart. As often Jesus committed to his care 
 the flock which he had purchased with his blood. And 
 that none might be forgotten, he not only said, " Feed my 
 sheep," but, " Feed my lambs," also. 
 
 May every instructor of the young keep this injunction 
 enforced on his conscience and affections ! — I return to lit- 
 tle Jane . 
 
 It was about fifteen months from the first period of her 
 attendance on my Saturday school, when I missed her 
 from her customary place. Two or three weeks had gone 
 by, without my making any particular inquiry respecting 
 her. I was at length informed that she was not welh 
 But, apprehending no peculiar cause for alarm, nearly two 
 months passed away without any further mention of her 
 name being made. 
 
 At length a poor old woman in the village, of whose re- 
 ligious disposition I had formed a good opinion, came and 
 15
 
 170 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 said to me, " Sir, have not you missed Jane S at your 
 
 house on Saturday afternoons ]" 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " I believe she is not well." 
 
 " Nor ever will be, I fear," said the woman. 
 
 " What, do you apprehend any danger in the case V 
 
 " Sir, she is very poorly indeed, and I think is in a de- 
 cline. She wants to see you, sir ; but is afraid you would 
 not come to see such a poor young child as she is." 
 
 " Not go where poverty and sickness may call me ! how 
 can she imagine so ? at which house does she live ?" 
 
 " Sir, it is a poor place, and she is ashamed to ask you 
 to come there. Her near neighbors are noisy, wicked 
 people, and her own father and mother are strange folks. 
 They all make game at poor Jenny, because she reads her 
 Bible so much." 
 
 " Do not tell me about poor places, and wicked people : 
 that is the very situation where a minister of the gospel is 
 called to do the most good. I shall go to see her ; you 
 may let her know my intention." 
 
 " I will, sir ; I go in most days to speak to her, and it 
 does one's heart good to hear her talk." 
 
 " Indeed I" said I : " what does she talk about 1" 
 
 *' Talk about, poor thing ! why, nothing but good things, 
 such as the Bible, and Jesus Christ, and life, and death, 
 and her soul, and heaven, and hell, and your discourses, 
 and the books you used to teach her, sir. Her father says 
 he'll have no such godly doings in his house ; and her own 
 mother scoffs at her, and says she supposes Jenny counts 
 herself better than other folks. But she does not mind 
 all that. She will read her books, and then talk so pretty 
 to her mother, and beg that she would think about her 
 soul."
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 171 
 
 " The Lord forgive me," thought I, " for not being more 
 attentive to this poor child's case." I seemed to feel the 
 importance of infantine instruction more than ever I had 
 done before, and felt a rising hope that this girl might 
 prove a kind of first fruits of my labors. 
 
 I now recollected her quiet, orderly, diligent attendance 
 on our little weekly meetings ; and her marked approbation 
 of the epitaph, as related in my last paper, rushed into my 
 thoughts. " I hope, I really hope," said I, " this dear child 
 will prove a true child of God. And if so, what a mercy 
 to her, and what a mercy for me !" 
 
 The next morning I went to see the child. Her dwell- 
 ing was of the humblest kind. It stood against a high 
 bank of earth, which formed a sort of garden behind it. 
 It was so steep that but little would grow in it ; yet that 
 little served to show not only, on the one hand, the poverty 
 of its owners, but also to illustrate the happy truth, that 
 even in the worst of circumstances the Lord does make a 
 kind provision for the support of his creatures. The front 
 aspect of the cottage was chiefly rendered pleasing, by a 
 honeysuckle, which luxuriantly climbed up the wall, en- 
 closing the door, windows, and even the chimney, with its 
 twining branches. As I entered the house-door, its flow- 
 ers put forth a very sweet and refreshing smell. Intent 
 on the object of my visit, I at the same moment offered 
 up silent prayer to God, and entertained a hope, tliat the 
 welcome fragrance of the shrub might be illustrative 
 of that all-prevailing intercession of a Redeemer, which 
 I trusted was, in the case of this little child, as " a sweet 
 smelling savor" to her heavenly Father. The very flow- 
 ers and leaves of the garden and field are emblematical of 
 higher things, when grace teaches us to make them so.
 
 172 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 Jane was in bed up stairs. I found no one in the house 
 with her. except the woman who had brought rae the mes- 
 sage on the evening before. The instant I looked on the 
 girl I perceived a very marked change in her countenance : 
 it had acquired the consumptive hue, both white and red. 
 A delicacy unknown to it before quite surprised me, owing 
 to the alteration it produced in her look. She received me 
 first with a very sweet smile, and then instantly burst into 
 a flood of tears, just sobbing out, 
 
 " I am so glad to see you, sir !" 
 
 " I am very much concerned at your being so ill, 
 my child, and grieved that I was not sooner aware of 
 your state. But I hope the Lord designs it for your 
 good." 
 
 Her eye, not her tongue, powerfully expressed, "I 
 hope and think he does." 
 
 " Well, my poor child, since you can no longer come to 
 see me, I will come and see you, and we will talk over the 
 subjects which I have been used to explain to you." 
 
 " Indeed, sir, I shall be so glad." 
 
 "That I believe she will," said the woman; "for she 
 loves to talk of nothing so much as what she has heard 
 you say in your sermoxis, and in the books you have given 
 her." 
 
 " Are you really desirous, my dear child, to be a true 
 Christian?" 
 
 "O! yes, yes, sir; I am sure I desire that above all 
 things." 
 
 I was astonished and delighted at the earnestness and 
 simplicity with which she spoke these words. 
 
 " Sir," added she, " I have been thinking as I lay on 
 my bed for many weeks past, how good you are to in-
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 173 
 
 Btruct US poor children ; what must become of us with- 
 out it'" 
 
 " I|am truly glad to perceive that my instructions have 
 not been lost upon you, and pray God that this your pre- 
 sent sickness may be an instrument of blessing in his 
 hands to prove, humble, and sanctify you. My dear child, 
 you have a soul, an immortal soul to think of; you remem- 
 ber what I have often said to you about the value of a soul : 
 ' What would it profit a man to gain the whole world, and 
 lose his own soul]' " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I remember well you told us, that when our 
 bodies are put into the grave, our souls will then go either 
 to the good or the bad place." 
 
 " And to which of these places do you think that, as c 
 sinner in the sight of God, you deserve to go ]" 
 
 " To the bad one, sir." 
 
 " What, to everlasting destruction!" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Why so ]" 
 
 "Because I am a great sinner." 
 
 " And must all great sinners go to hell!" 
 
 " They all deserve it ; and I am sure I do." 
 
 " But is there no way of escape ! Is there no way for a 
 great sinner to be saved !" 
 
 " Yes, sir, Christ is the Saviour." 
 
 " And whom does he save 7" 
 
 "All believers." 
 
 "And do you believe in Christ yourself!" 
 
 " I do not know, sir ; I wish I did ; but 1 feel that I 
 love him." 
 
 "What do you love him for?" 
 
 " Because he is good to poor children's souls like mine." 
 15*
 
 174 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 " What has he done for you?" 
 
 " He died for me, sir ; and what could he do more V* 
 " And what do you hope to gain by his death?" ' 
 " A good place when I die, if I believe in him and love 
 him." 
 
 " Have you felt any uneasiness on account of your soul 7" 
 " O ! yes, sir, a great deal. When you used to talk to 
 us children on Saturdays, I often felt as if I could hardly 
 bear it, and wondered that others could seem so careless. 
 I thought I was not fit to die. I thought of all the bad 
 things I had ever done and said, and believed God must 
 be very angry with me ; for you often told us, that God 
 would not be mocked ; and that Christ said, if we w^ere 
 not converted we could not go to heaven. Sometimes I 
 thought I was so young it did not signify : and then again 
 it seemed to me a great sin to think so : for I knew I was 
 old enough to see w^hat was right and what was wTong : 
 and so God had a just right to be angry when I did wrong. 
 Besides, I could see that my heart was not right : and how 
 could such a heart be fit for heaven 1 Indeed, sir, T used 
 to feel very uneasy." 
 
 " My dear Jenny, I wish I had known all this before. 
 Why did you never tejl me about if?" 
 
 " Sir, I durst not. Indeed, I could not well say what 
 was the matter with me : and I thought you would look 
 upon me as very bold if I had spoke about myself to such 
 a gentleman as you : yet I often wished that you knew 
 what I felt and feared. Sometimes, as we went away 
 from your house, I could not help crying ; and then the 
 other children laughed and jeered at me, and said I was 
 going to be very good, they supposed, or at least to make 
 people think so. Sometimes, sir, I fancied you did not
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 11®- 
 
 think so well of me as of the rest, and that hurt me ; yet 
 I knew I deserved no particular favor, because I was the 
 chief of sinners." 
 
 '* My dear, what made St. Paul say he was the chief of 
 sinners'? In what verse of the Bible do you find this ex- 
 pression, 'the chief of sinners :' — can you repeat it]" 
 
 " ' This is a faithful saying-, and worthy of all accepta- 
 tion, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners :' 
 is not that right, sir ?" 
 
 " Yes, my child, it is right; and I hope that the same 
 conviction which St. Paul had at that moment, has made 
 you sensible of the same truth. Christ came into the 
 world to save sinners : my dear child, remember now and 
 for evermore, that Christ came into the world to save the 
 chief of sinners." 
 
 " Sir, I am so glad he did. It makes me hope that he 
 will save me, though I am a poor sinful girl. Sir, I am 
 very ill, and I do not think I shall ever get well again. I 
 want to go to Christ, if I die." 
 
 " Go to Christ while you live, my dear child, and he will 
 not cast you away when you die. He that said, ' Suffer 
 little children to come unto me,' waits to be gracious to 
 them, and forbids them not. 
 
 " What made you first think so seriously about the state 
 of your souH" 
 
 " Your talking about the graves in the churchyard, and 
 telling us how many young children were buried there. 
 I remember you said one day, near twelve months ago, 
 ' Children ! where will you be a hundred years hence 1 
 Children ! where do you think you shall go when you die? 
 Children ! if you were to die to-night, are you sure 
 vou should go to Christ and be happy V Sir, I never
 
 176 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 shall forget your saying, 'Children,' three times togethei 
 in that solemn way." 
 
 " Did you never before that day feel any desire about 
 your soul?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I think I first had that desire almost as soon 
 as you began to teach us on Saturday afternoons ; but on 
 that day I felt as I never did before. I shall never forget it. 
 All the way as I went home, and all that night, these words 
 were in my thoughts : 'Children! where do you think you 
 shall go, when you die ?' I thought I must leave off all my 
 bad ways, or where should I go when I died?" 
 
 " And what elFect did these thoughts produce in your 
 mind V 
 
 " Sir, I tried to live belter, and I did leave off many 
 bad ways ; but the more I strove, the more difficult I 
 found it, my heart seemed so hard : and then I could not 
 tell any one my case." 
 
 " Could not you tell it to the Lord, who hears and an- 
 swers prayer J" 
 
 " My prayers (here she blushed and sighed) are very 
 poor at the best, and at that time I scarcely knew how to 
 pray at all, as I ought. But I did sometimes ask the Lord 
 for a better heart." , 
 
 There was a character in all this conversation which 
 marked a truly sincere and enlightened state of mind. 
 She spoke with all the simplicity of a child, and yet the 
 seriousness of a Christian. I could scarcely persuade 
 myself that she was the same girl I had been accustomed 
 to see in past time. Her countenance was filled with in- 
 teresting affections, and always spoke much more than her 
 tongue could utter. At the same time she now possessed 
 an ease and liberty in speaking, to which she had formerly
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. Iff 
 
 been a stranger : nevertheless, she was modest, hum- 
 ble, and unassuming. Her readiness to converse was the 
 result of spiritual anxiety, not childish forwardness. The 
 marks of a divine change were too prominent to be easily 
 mistaken ; and in this very child, I, for the first time, wit- 
 nessed the evident testimonies of such a change. How 
 encouraging, how profitable to my own soul ! 
 
 " Sir," continued little Jane, " I had one day been think- 
 ing that I was neither fit to live nor die : for I could find 
 no comfort in this world, and I was sure I deserved none 
 in the other. On that day you sent me to learn the verse 
 
 on Mrs. B 's headstone, and then I read that on the 
 
 one next to it." 
 
 " I very well remember it, Jenny ; you came back, and 
 repeated them both to me." 
 
 " There were two lines in it which made me think and 
 meditate a great deal." 
 
 " Which were they V* 
 
 " ' Hail, glorious Gospel, heavenly light, whereby 
 We live with comfort, and with comfort die.' 
 
 I wished that glorious gospel was mine, that I might live 
 and die with comfort ; and it seemed as if I thought it 
 would be so. I never felt so happy in all my life before. 
 The words were often in my thoughts, 
 
 ' Live witk comfort, and with comfort die.* 
 
 * Glorious gospel' indeed ! I thought." 
 
 " My dear child, what is the meaning of the word gos- 
 pel 1" 
 
 " Good news." 
 
 " Good news for whom ]" 
 
 " For wicked sinners, sir." 
 
 " Who sends this good news for wicked sinners V
 
 17S THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 " The Lord Almighty." 
 
 " And who brings this good news ]" 
 
 " Sir, you brought it to me^ 
 
 Here my soui melted in an instant, and I could not re- 
 press the tears which the emotion excited. The last 
 answer was equally unexpected and affecting. I felt a 
 father's tenderness and gratitude for a new and first-born 
 child. 
 
 Jane wept likewise. 
 
 After a little pause she said, 
 
 " O sir ! I wish you would speak to my father, and mo- 
 ther, and little brother • for I am afraid they are going on 
 very badly." 
 
 « How so ]" 
 
 " Sir, they drink, and swear, and quarrel, and do not 
 like what is good : and it does grieve me so, I cannot bear 
 it. If I speak a word to them about it they are very angry, 
 and laugh, and bid me be quiet, and not set up for their 
 teacher. Sir, I am ashamed to tell you this of them, but 
 I hope it is not wrong ; I mean it for their good." 
 
 " I wish your prayers and endeavors for their sake may 
 be blessed : I will also do what I can." 
 
 I then prayed with the child, and promised to visit her 
 constantly. 
 
 As I returned home, my heart was filled with thankful- 
 ness for what I had seen and heard. Little Jane appeared 
 to be a first-fruits of my parochial and spiritual harvest. 
 This thought greatly comforted and strengthened me in 
 my ministerial prospects. 
 
 My partiality to the memory of little Jane will probably 
 induce me to lay some further particulars before the 
 reader.
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 iid 
 
 Divine grace educates the reasoning faculties of the 
 Boul, as well as the best affections of the heart ; and hap- 
 pily consecrates them both to the glory of the Redeemer. 
 Neither the disadvantages of poverty, nor the inexperience 
 of childhood, are barriers able to resist the mighty influ- 
 ences of the Spirit of God, when " he goeth forth where 
 he listeth." — " God hath chosen the foolish things of this 
 world to confound the wise ; and God hath chosen the 
 weak things of the world to confound the things which 
 are mighty." The truth of this scriptural assertion was 
 peculiarly evident in the case of my young parishioner. 
 
 Little Jane's illness was of a lingering nature. I often 
 visited her. The soul of this young Christian was grad- 
 ually, but effectually, preparing for heaven. I have sel- 
 dom witnessed in any older person, under similar circum- 
 stances, stronger marks of earnest inquiry, continual 
 seriousness, and holy affections. One morning, as I was 
 walking through the churchyard, in my way to visit her, I 
 stopped to look at the epitaph which had made such a 
 deep impression on her mind. I was struck with the re- 
 flection of the important consequences which might result 
 from a more frequent and judicious attention to tlie in- 
 scriptions placed in our burying-grounds, as memorials of 
 the departed. The idea occurred to my thoughts, that as 
 the two stone tables given by God to Moses were once a 
 mean of communicating to the Jews, from age to age, the 
 revelation of God's will as concerning the law ; so these 
 funeral tables of stone may, under a better dispensation,
 
 180 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 bear a never-failing proclamation of God's good-will tc 
 sinners as revealed in the gospel of his grace, from gene- 
 ration to generation. I have often lamented, when in- 
 dulging a contemplation among the graves, that some of 
 the inscriptions were coarse and ridiculous ; others, ab- 
 surdly flattering ; many, expressive of sentiment at vari- 
 ance with the true principles of the word of God ; not a 
 few, barren and unaccompanied with a single word of use- 
 ful instruction to the reader. Thus a very important op- 
 portunity of conveying scriptural admonition is lost. I 
 wish that every grave-stone might not only record the 
 name of our deceased friends, but also proclaim the name 
 of Jesus, as the only name given under heaven, whereby 
 men can be saved. Perhaps, if the ministers of religion 
 were to interest themselves in this manner, and accus- 
 tom their people to consult them as to the nature of the 
 monumental inscriptions which they wish to introduce 
 into churches and churchyards, a gradual improvement 
 would take place in this respect. What is offensive, use- 
 less, or erroneous, would no longer find admittance, and a 
 succession of valuable warning and consolation to the liv- 
 ing would perpetuate the memory of the dead. 
 
 What can be mor^e disgusting than the too common 
 spectacle of trifling, licentious travellers, wandering about 
 the churchyards of the different places through which 
 they pass, in search of rude, ungrammatical, ill-spelt, and 
 absurd verses among the grave-stones ; and this for tho 
 gratification of their unholy scorn and ridicule ! And yet 
 how much is it to be depi. ornd that such persons are sel- 
 dom disappointed in finding many instances which too 
 readily afford them the unfeeling satisfaction which they 
 seek ! I therefore offer this suggestion to my reverend
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 181 
 
 brethren, that as no monument or stone can be placed in a 
 church or churchyard without their express consent or- 
 approbation, whether one condition of that consent bemg 
 granted, should not be a previous inspection and approval 
 of every inscription which may be so placed within the 
 precincts of the sanctuary. 
 
 The reader will pardon this digression, which evidently 
 arose from the peculiar connection established in little 
 Jane's history, between an epitaph inscribed on a grave- 
 stone, and the word of God inscribed on her heart. When 1 
 arrived at Jane's cottage, I found her in bed, reading Dr. 
 Watts's Hymns for Children, in which she took great, 
 pleasure. 
 
 " What are you reading this morning, Jane ?" 
 " Sir, I have been thinking very much about some ver-- 
 ses in my little book. — Here tliey are : 
 
 ' There is an hour when 1 must die^ 
 
 Nor do 1 know how soon 'twill come ; 
 A thousand children young as I, 
 
 Are called by death to hear their doom. 
 
 ' Let me improve th(? hours I have, 
 
 Before the day of grace is fled ; 
 There's no repentance in the grave, 
 
 Nor pardon ofier'd to the dead.' 
 
 "Sir, I feel all that to be very true, and T am afraid l 
 dD not improve the hours I hav^ as I ought to do. I think 
 I shall not live very longf and when I remember my 
 sins, I say, 
 
 ' Lord, at thy foot asham'd 1 lie, 
 
 Upward 1 dare not look ; 
 Pardon my sins before 1 die, 
 
 And blot them from thy >bok.' 
 
 Do you think he will pardon me, sir V* 
 16
 
 182 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 " My dear child, I have great hopes that he has par- 
 doned you : that he has heard your prayers, and put you 
 into the number of his true children already. You have 
 bad strong proofs of his mercy to your soul." 
 
 '' Yes, sir, I have, and I wish to love and bless him for 
 it. He is good, very good." 
 
 It had for some time past occurred to my mind, that a 
 course of regulated conversations on the first principles of 
 religion, would be very desirable from time to time, for 
 this interesting child's sake ; and I thought the Church 
 •Catechism would be the best ground-work for that purpose. 
 
 " Jenny," said I, " you can repeat the Catechism ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but I think that has been one of my sins in 
 the sight of God." 
 
 ^' What ! repeating your Catechism 1" 
 
 " Yes, sir, in such a way as I used to do it." 
 
 " How was that V 
 
 " Very carelessly indeed. I never thought about the 
 meaning of the words, and that must be very wrong. Sir, 
 the Catechism is full of good things ; I wish I understood 
 them better." 
 
 " Well then, my child, we will talk a little about those 
 good things which, as you truly say, are contained in the 
 Catechism. Did you ever consider what it is to be a mem- 
 ber of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the king- 
 dom of heaven ?" 
 
 *'I think, sir, I have lately considered it a good deal; 
 and I want to be such, not only in name, but in deed and 
 in truth. You once told me, sir, that 'as the branch is to 
 the vine, and the stone to the building, and the limb to the 
 body and the head, so is a true believer to the Lord Jesus 
 XJhrist.' But how am I to know that I belong to Christ as
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 im 
 
 a true member, which you said one day in the church, 
 means the same as a limb of the body, such as a leg or 
 an arm ]" 
 
 " Do you love Christ now in a way you never used to 
 do before ]" 
 
 " Yes, I think so indeed." 
 
 " Why do you love him!" 
 
 *' Because he first loved me." 
 
 " How do you know that he first lovea you ?" 
 
 " Because he sent me instruction, and made me feel the 
 sin of my heart, and taught me to pray for pardon, and 
 love his ways : he sent you to teach me, sir, an^ to show 
 me the way to be saved ; and now I want to be saved in 
 that way that he pleases. Sometimes I feel as if I loved 
 all that he has said and done, so much, that I wish never 
 to think about any thing- else. I know 1 did not use to 
 feel so ; and I think if he had not loved me first, my 
 wicked heart would never have cared about him. I once 
 loved any thing better than religion, but now it is every 
 thing to me." 
 
 " Do you believe in your heart that Christ is able and 
 willing to save the chief of sinners]" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "And what are you ]" 
 
 'A young, but a great sinner." 
 
 " Is it not of his mercy that you know and feel yourself 
 to be a sinner 1" 
 
 " Certainly ; yes, it must be so." 
 
 " Do you earnestly deuire to forsake all sin ?" 
 
 " If I know myself, I do." 
 
 "Do you feel a spirit within you, resisting sin, and 
 making you hate it 3"
 
 184 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 " Yes, I hope so." 
 
 "Who gave you that spirit ? were you always so]" 
 
 " It must be Christ, who loved me, and gave himself 
 for me. I was quite different once." 
 
 " Now then, my dear Jane, does not all this show a con- 
 nection between the Lord Jesus Christ and your soul] 
 Does it not seem, as if you lived, and moved, and had a 
 spiritual being from hiia ] Just as a limb is connected 
 with your body, and so with your head, and thereby gets 
 power to live and move through the flowing of the blood 
 from one to the other : so are you spiritually a limb or 
 member of Christ, if you believe in him ; and thus obtain, 
 through faith, a power to love him, and live to his praise 
 and glory. Do you understand me ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, I believe I do : and it is very comfortable to 
 my thoughts to look up to Christ as a living head, and to 
 consider myself as the least and lowest of all his members." 
 
 " Now, tell me what your thoughts are as to being a 
 child of God." 
 
 " I am sure, sir, I do not deserve to be called his child." 
 
 " Can you tell me who does deserve it ]" 
 
 " No one, sir." 
 
 "How then comes ,any one lo be a child of God, when 
 by nature we are all children of of wrath ]" 
 
 " By God's grace, sir !" 
 
 " What does grace mean ?" 
 
 " Favor ; free favor to sinners." 
 
 " Right ; and what does God bestow upon the children 
 of wrath, when he makes them children of grace ?" 
 
 " A death unto sin, and a new birth unto righteousness : 
 i." it not, sir ?" 
 
 " Yes, this is the fruit of Clirist's redeeming love : and
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 185 
 
 I hope you are a partaker of the blessing. The family of 
 God is named after him, and he is the first-born of many- 
 brethren. What a mercy that Christ calls himself 'a 
 hrotlier /' My little girl, he is your brother ; and will not 
 be ashamed to own you, and present you to his Father at 
 the last day, as one that he has purchased with his blood." 
 " I wish I could love my Father and my Brother which 
 are in heaven, better than I do. Lord, be merciful to me 
 a sinner ! I think, sir, if I am a child of God, I am often 
 a rebellious one. He shows kindness to me beyond oth- 
 ers, and yet I make a very poor return. 
 
 'Are these thy favors, day by day, 
 
 To irie above the rest ? 
 Then let me love thee more than they, 
 
 And strive to serve thee best.' " 
 
 " That will be the best way to approve yourself a real 
 child of God. Show your love and thankfulness to such a 
 Father, who hath prepared for you an inheritance among 
 the samts in light, and made you 'an inheritor of the 
 kingdom of heaven, as well as a member of Christ, and a 
 child of God.' Do you know what ' the kingdom of hea- 
 ven' means V 
 
 Just at that instant, her mother entered the house be- 
 low, and began to speak to a younger child in a passionate, 
 scolding tone of voice, accompanied by some very offen- 
 sive language ; but quickly stopped on hearing us in con- 
 versation up stairs. 
 
 "Ah, my poor mother !" said the girl, "you would not 
 
 have stopped so short, if Mr. had not been here. Sir, 
 
 you hear how my mother swears ; pray say something to 
 her ; she will not hear Twe." 
 
 le*
 
 186 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 I went towards the stair-head, and called to the woman , 
 but ashamed at the thought of my having probably over- 
 heard her expressions, she suddenly left the house, and 
 for that time escaped reproof. 
 
 " Sir," said little Jane, " I am so afraid, if I go to heaven, 
 I shall never see my poor mother there. I wish I may ; 
 but she does swear so, and keep such bad company. As 
 I lie here a-bed, sir, for hours together, there is often so 
 much wickedness, and noise, and quarrelling down below, 
 that I do not know how to bear it. It comes very near, sir, 
 when one's father and mother go on so. I want them all to 
 turn to the Lord, and go to heaven. — Tell me now, sir, some- 
 thing about being an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 "You may remember, my child, what I have told 
 you when explaining the Catechism in the church, that 
 *the kingdom of heaven' in the Scriptures means the 
 Church of Christ upon earth, as well as the state of glory 
 in heaven. The one is a preparation for the other. All 
 true Christians are heirs of God, and joint-heirs with 
 Christ, and shall inherit the glory and happiness of his 
 kingdom, and live with Christ, and be with him for ever. 
 This is the free gift of God to his adopted children ; and 
 all that believe aright' in Christ shall experience the truth 
 of that promise, 'It is your Father's good pleasure to give 
 you the kingdom.' You are a poor girl now, but I trust 
 'an entrance shall be ministered unto you abundantly, 
 into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour 
 Jesus Christ.' You sufTer now ; but are you not willing 
 to suffer for his sake, and to bear patiently those things to 
 which he calls you?" 
 
 " O yes, very willing ; I would not complain. It is all 
 ricrht."
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 187 
 
 " Then, my dear, you shall reign with him. Through 
 much tribulation you may, perhaps, enter into the king- 
 dom of God ; but tribulation worketh patience ; and pa- 
 tience experience ; and experience, hope. As a true 
 'member of Christ,' show yourself to be a dutiful 'child 
 of God,' and your portion will be that of an inheritor of 
 the kingdom of heaven. Faithful is He that hath prom- 
 ised ; commit thy way unto the Lord ; trust also in him, 
 and he shall bring it to pass." 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I do so love to hear of these things. 
 And I think, sir, I should not love them so much, if I had 
 no part in them. Sir, there is one thing I want to ask 
 you. It is a great thing, and I may be wrong — I am so 
 young — And yet I hope I mean right " 
 
 Here she hesitated, and paused. 
 
 " What is it ? do not be fearful of mentioning it." 
 
 A tear rolled down her cheek — a slight blush colored 
 her countenance. She lifted up her eyes to heaven for a 
 moment, and then fixing them on me with a solemn, af- 
 fecting look, said — 
 
 "M?iy so young a poor child as I am, be admitted to the 
 Lord's Supper] I have for some time wished it, but 
 dared not to mention it, for fear you should think it wrong." 
 
 " My dear Jenny, I have no doubt respecting it, and 
 shall be very glad to converse with you on the subject, 
 and hope that He who has given you the desire will bless 
 his own ordinance to your soul. Would you wish it now, 
 or to-morrow]" 
 
 " To-morrow, if you please, sir, — will you come to- 
 morrow, and talk to me about if? and if you think it pro- 
 per, I shall be thankful. I am growing faint now — I hope 
 to be better when you come again."
 
 188 THE YOUNG COTTAGEK. 
 
 1 was much pleased with her proposal, and rejoiced in 
 the prospect of seeing- no young and sincere a Christian 
 thus devote herself to the Lord, and receive the sacra- 
 mental seal of a Saviour's love to her soul. 
 
 Disease was making rapid inroads upon her constitution, 
 and she was aw- are of it. But as the outward man decay- 
 ed, she was strengthened with might by God's Spirit in 
 the inner man. She was evidently ripening fast for a 
 better world. 
 
 I remember these things with affectionate pleasure — 
 they revive my earlier associations, and I hope the recol- 
 lection does me good. I wish them to do good to thee, 
 likewise, my reader ; and therefore I write them down. 
 
 May ^le simplicity that is in Christ render 
 
 '• The short and simple annals of the poor" 
 
 a mean of grace and blessing to thy soul ! Out of the 
 mouth of this babe and suckling may God ordain thee 
 strength ! If thou art willing, thou mayest perchance 
 boar something further respecting her. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 I WAS so much affected with my last visit to little Jane, 
 and particularly with her tender anxiety respecting the 
 Lord's Supper, that it formed the chief subject of my 
 thoughts for the remainder of the day. 
 
 I rode in the afternoon to a favorite spot, where I some- 
 times indulged in solitary meditation ; and where I wish-
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 189 
 
 ed to reflect on the interesting case of my little dis- 
 ciple. 
 
 It was a place well suited for such a purpose. 
 
 In the widely sweeping curve of a beautiful bay, there 
 is a kind of chasm or opening in one of the lofty cliffs 
 which bound it. This produces a very romantic and strik- 
 ing effect. The steep-descending sides of this opening in 
 the cliff" are covered with trees, bushes, wild-flowers, fern, 
 wormwood, and many other herbs, here and there con- 
 trasted with bold masses of rock or brown earth. 
 
 In the higher part of one of those declivities two or 
 three picturesque cottages are fixed, and seem half sus- 
 pended in the air. 
 
 From the upper extremity of this great fissure, or open- 
 ing in the cliff, a small stream of water enters by a cas- 
 cade, flows through the bottom, winding in a varied course 
 of about a quarter of a mile in length ; and then runs into 
 the sea across a smooth expanse of firm hard sand, at the 
 lower extremity of the chasm. At this point, the sides of 
 the woody banks are very lofty, and to a spectator from 
 the bottom, exhibit a mixture of the grand and beautiful 
 not often exceeded. 
 
 Near the mouth of this opening was a little hollow re- 
 cess, or cave, in the clift", from whence, on one hand, I 
 could see the above-described romantic scene ; on the other, 
 a long train of perpendicular cliffs, terminating in a bold 
 and wild-shaped promontory, which closed the bay at one 
 end, while a conspicuous white cliff stood directly opposite, 
 about four miles distant, at the further point of the bay. 
 
 The shore between the different cliffs and the edge of 
 the waves, was in some parts covered with stones and 
 shingle, in some with firm sand, and in others with irre-
 
 190 THE rorNCr cottager. 
 
 gular heaps of little rocks fringed with sea-weod, and 
 ornamented with small yellow shells. 
 
 The cliffs themselves were diversified with strata of 
 various-colored earth, black, yellow, brown, and orange. 
 The effects of iron ore, producing very manifest changes 
 of hue, were everywhere seen in trickling drops and 
 streamlets down the sides. 
 
 The huts in which the fishermen kept their baskets, 
 nets, boats, and other implements, occupied a few retired 
 spots on the shore. 
 
 The open sea, in full magnificence, occupied the centre 
 of the prospect ; bounded, indeed, in one small part, by a 
 very distant shore, on the rising ascent from which the 
 rays of the sun rendered visible a cathedral church, with 
 its towering spire, at near thirty miles distance. Every- 
 v.-here else, the sea beyond was limited only by the sky. 
 
 A frigate was standing into the bay, not very far from 
 my recess ; other vessels of every size, sailing in many 
 directions, varied the scene, and furnished matter for a 
 thousand sources of contemplation. 
 
 At my feet the little rivulet, gently rippling over peb- 
 bles, soon mingled with the sand, and was lost in the 
 waters of the mighty ocean. The murmuring of the 
 wave, as the tide ebbed or flowed, on the sand ; their dash- 
 ing against some more distant rocks, which were covered 
 fantastically with sea-weed and shells ; sea-birds floating 
 in the air aloft, or occasionally screaming from their holes 
 in the cliffs ; the hum of human voices in the ships and 
 boats, borne along the water : all these sounds served to 
 promote, rather than interrupt, meditation. They were 
 soothingly blended together, and entered the ear in a kind 
 of natural harmony.
 
 THt YOUXG- COTTAGER. 191 
 
 In the quiet enjoyment of a scene like this, the lover of 
 nature's beauties will easily find scope for spiritual illus- 
 tration. 
 
 Here I sat and mused over the interesting character 
 and circumstances of little Jane. Here I prayed that God 
 would effectually teach me those truths which I ought 
 to teach her. 
 
 When I thought of her youth, I blushed to think how 
 superior she was to what I well remember myself to have 
 been at the same age : nay, how far my superior at that 
 very time. I earnestly desired to catch something of the 
 spirit which appeared so lovely in her : for simple, teach- 
 able, meek, humble, yet earnest in her demeanor, she bore 
 living marks of heavenly teaching. 
 
 " The Lord," thought I, "has called this little child, and 
 set her in the midst of us, as a parable, a pattern, an em- 
 blem. And he saith, ' Verily, except ye be converted, and 
 become as little children, ye shall not enter into the king- 
 dom of heaven.' O that I may be humble as this little child !" 
 
 I was thus led into a deep self-examination, and was 
 severely exercised with fear and apprehension, whether I 
 was myself a real partaker of those divine influences which 
 I could so evidently discover in her. Sin appeared to me 
 just then to be more than ever " exceeding sinful." In- 
 ward and inbred corruptions made me tremble. The dan- 
 ger of self-deception in so great a matter alarmed me — 
 I was a teacher of others ; but was I indeed spiritually 
 taught myself] 
 
 A spirit of anxious inquiry ran through every thought : 
 I looked at the manifold works of creation around me ; I 
 perceived the greatest marks of regularity and order ; but 
 tcithin I felt confusion and disorder.
 
 192 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 " The waves of the sea," thought I, "ebb and flow in ex 
 act obedience to the law of their Creator. — Thus far they 
 come, and no further — they retre again to their accus 
 tomed bounds ; and so maintain a regulated succession of 
 effects. 
 
 " But alas ! the waves of passion and affection in the 
 human breast manifest more of the wild confusion of a 
 storm, than the orderly regularity of a tide — Grace can 
 alone subdue them. 
 
 " What peaceful harmony subsists throughout all this 
 lovely landscape ! — These majestic cliffs, some clothed 
 with trees and shrubs ; others bare and unadorned with 
 herbage, yet variegated with many-colored earths : these 
 are not only sublime and delightful to behold, but they are 
 answering the end of their creation, and serve as a barrier 
 to stop the progress of the waves. 
 
 " But how little peace and harmony can I comparatively 
 see in my own heart ! The landscape within is marred by 
 dreary barren wilds, and wants that engaging character 
 which the various parts of this prospect before me so hap 
 pily preserve. — Sin, sin is the bane of mortality, and heap? 
 confusion upon confusion, wherever it prevails. 
 
 " Yet, saith the voice of Promise, ' Sin shall not have 
 dominion over you.' — O ! then, 'may I yield myself unto 
 God, as one that am alive from the dead, and my members 
 as instruments of righteousness unto God.' And thus may 
 I become an able and willing minister of the New Testa- 
 ment ! 
 
 " I wish I were like this little stream of water. — It takes 
 its first rise scarcely a mile off: yet it has done good even 
 in that short course. It has passed by several cottages in 
 its way, and afforded life and health to the inhabitants — it
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 108 
 
 has watered their little gardens, as it flows, and enriched 
 the meadows near its banks. It has satisfied the thirst of 
 the flocks that are feeding aloft on the hills, and perhaps 
 refreshed the shepherd's boy who sits watching his mas- 
 ter's sheep hard by. It then quietly finishes its current 
 in this secluded dell, and, agreeably to the design of its 
 Creator, quickly vanishes in the ocean. 
 
 " May my course be like unto thine, thou little rivulet ! 
 Though short be my span of life, yet may I be useful to 
 my fellow sinners, as I travel onward ! Let me be a dis- 
 penser of spiritual support and health to many ! Like this 
 stream, may I prove 'the poor man's friend' by the way, 
 and water the souls that thirst for the river of life, where- 
 ever I meet them ! — And, if it please thee, O my God ! 
 let me in my latter end be like this brook. It calmly, 
 though not quite silently, flows through this scene of 
 peace and loveliness, just before it enters the sea. Let 
 me thus gently close my days likewise ; and may I not 
 unusefully tell to others of the goodness and mercy of our 
 Saviour, till I arrive at the vast ocean of eternity ! 
 
 "Thither," thought I, "little Jane is fast hastening. 
 Short, but not useless, has been her course. I feel the 
 great importance of it in my own soul at this moment. I 
 view a work of mercy there, to which I do hope I am not 
 quite a stranger in the experience of my own heart. The 
 thought enlivens my spirit, and leads me to see, that, great 
 as is the power of sin, the power of Jesus is greater: and, 
 through grace, I may meet my dear young disciple, my 
 child in the gospel, my sister in the faith, in a brighter, a 
 better world hereafter." 
 
 There was something in tlie whole of this meditation, 
 which calmed and prepared my mind for my promised 
 17
 
 194 THE TOUXG COTTAGER. 
 
 visit the next day. I looked forward to it with affectionate 
 anxiety. 
 
 It was now time to return homeward. The sun was 
 setting. Tlie lengthened shadows of the cliffs, and of the 
 hills towering again far above them, cast a brown but not 
 unpleasing tint over the waters of the bay. Further on, 
 the beams of the sun still maintained their splendor. 
 Some of the sails of the distant ships, enlivened by its 
 rays, appeared like white spots in the blue horizon, and 
 seemed to attract my notice, as if to claim at least the 
 passing prayer, "God speed the mariners on their voyage !" 
 
 I quitted my retreat in the cliff with some reluctance ; 
 but with a state of mind, as I hoped, solemnized by reflec- 
 tion, and animated to fragh exertion. 
 
 I walked up by a steep pathway, that winded through 
 the trees and shrubs on the sides of one of the precipices. 
 At every step the extent of prospect enlarged, and ac- 
 quired a new and varying character, by being seen through 
 the trees on each side. Climbing up a kind of rude, in- 
 artificial set of stone stairs in the bank, I passed by the 
 singularly-situated cottages which I had viewed from be- 
 neath ; received and returned the evening salutation of the 
 inhabitants, sitting at their doors, and just come home from 
 labor ; till I arrived at the top of the precipice, where I 
 had left my horse tied to a gate. 
 
 Could he have enjoyed it, he had a noble prospect around 
 him in every direction from this elevated point of view, 
 where he had been stationed while I was on the shore be- 
 low. But wherein he most probably failed, I think his 
 rider did not. The landscape, taken in connection with my 
 recent train of thought about myself and little Jane, in- 
 spired devotion.
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 195 
 
 The sun was now set : the bright colors of the western 
 clouds faintly reflected from the southeastern hills, that 
 were unseen from my retreat in the cliff, or only perceived 
 by their evening shadows on the sea, now added to the 
 beauty of the prospect on the south and west. Every ele- 
 ment contributed to the interesting effect of the scenery. 
 The earth was diversified in shape and ornament. The 
 Lcaters of the ocean presented a noble feature in the land- 
 scape. The air was serene, or only ruffled by a refresh- 
 ing breeze from the shore. And the sun's fierij beams, 
 though departing for the night, still preserved such a por- 
 tion of light and warmth, as rendered all the rest delight- 
 ful to an evening traveller. From this point the abyss, 
 occasioned by the great fissure in the cliff, appeared grand 
 and interesting. Trees hung over it on each side, pro- 
 jecting no"t only their branches, but many of their roots in 
 wild and fantastic forms. Masses of earth had recently 
 fallen from the upper to the lower parts of the precipice- 
 carrying trees and plants down the steep descent. The 
 character of the soil, and the unceasing influence of the 
 stream at the bottom, seemed to threaten further slips of 
 the land from the summit. From hence the gentle mur- 
 mur of the cascade at the head of the chine stole upon the 
 ear without much interruption to the quietness of the 
 scene. A fine rocky cliff, half buried in trees, stood erect 
 on the land side about a mile distant, and seemed to vie 
 with those on the shore, in challenging the passenger's 
 attention. In the distance stood a noble ash-tree, which, 
 on a considerable height, majestically reigned as tiie pa- 
 triarch of the grove near which it grew. Every object 
 combined to please the eye, and direct the traveller's heart
 
 196 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 to admire and love the Author and Creator of all that ifl 
 beautiful to sense^ and edifying to the soul. 
 
 The next morning I went to Jane's cottage. On enter- 
 ing the door, the woman who so frequently visited her, met 
 me. and saia , 
 
 " Perhaps, sir, you will not wake her just yet ; for she 
 has dropped asleep, and she seldom gets much rest, poor 
 girl." 
 
 I went gently up-stairs. 
 
 Tiie child was in a half-sitting posture, leaning her head 
 upon her right hand, with her Bible open before her. She 
 had evidently fallen asleep while reading. Her counte- 
 nance was beautifully composed and tranquil. A few 
 tears had rolled down her cheek, and (probably unknown 
 to her) dropped upon the pages of her book. 
 
 1 looked around me for a moment. The room was out- 
 wardly comfortless and uninviting ; the walls out of re- 
 pair ; the sloping roof somewhat shattered ; the floor 
 broken and uneven ; no furniture, but two tottering bed- 
 steads, a three-legged stool, and an old oak chest — the 
 window broken in many places, and mended with patches 
 of paper. A little shelf against the wall, over the bed- 
 stead where Jane lay, served for her physic, her food, and 
 her books. 
 
 " Yet /jere," I said to myself, " lies an heir of glory, 
 waiting for a happy dismissal. Her earthly home is poor 
 indeed : but she has a house, not made with hands, eter- 
 nal in the heavens. She has little to attach her to this 
 world : but what a weight of glory in the world to come ! 
 This mean, despised chamber is a palace in the eye of 
 faith, for it contains one that is inheritor of a crown." 
 
 I approached without waking her, and observed that
 
 THE TOUXG COTTAGER. 197 
 
 she liad been reading the twenty-third chapter of St. Luke. 
 The finger of her left hand lay upon the book, pointing to 
 the words, as if she had been using it to guide her eye 
 whilst she read. 
 
 I looked at the place, and was pleased at the apparently 
 casual circumstance of her finger pointing at these words : 
 
 " Lord, renumber me, when thou comest into thy king- 
 dom." 
 
 " Is this casual or designed !" thought I — " Either way 
 it is remarkable." 
 
 But m another moment I discovered that her finger was 
 indeed an index to the thoughts of her heart. 
 
 She half awoke from her dozing state, but not sufficient- 
 ly so to perceive that any person was present, and said, in 
 a kind of whisper, 
 
 " Lord, remember me — Remember me — Remember — 
 Remember a poor child — Lord, remember me " 
 
 She then suddenly started, and perceived me, as she 
 became fully awake — a faint blush overspread her cheeks 
 for a moment, and then disappeared. 
 
 " Dame K , how long have I been asleep ? — Sir, 1 
 
 am very sorry " 
 
 " And I am very glad to find you thus," I replied ; 'you 
 may say with David, ' I laid me down and slept ; I awaked, 
 for the Lord sustained me.' What were you reading V* 
 
 " The history of the crucifying of Jesus, sir." 
 
 " How far had you read when you fell asleep ?" 
 
 " To the prayer of the thief that was crucified with 
 him ; and when I came to that place I stopped, and thought 
 what a mercy it would be, if the Lord Jesus should re- 
 member me likewise — and so I fell asleep, and I fancied, 
 in my dream, that I saw Christ upon the cross ; and I 
 17*
 
 198 THE TOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 thoup-ht I said, ' Lord, remember me' — and I am sure he 
 did not look angry upon me — and then I awoke." 
 
 All this seemed to be a sweet commentary on the text, 
 and a most suitable forerunner of our intended sacramen- 
 tal service. 
 
 " Well, my dear child, I am come, as you wished me, 
 to administer the sacrament of the body and blood of our 
 
 bless<^d Saviour to you ; and I dare say neighbor K 
 
 will be glad to join us." 
 
 " Talk to me a little about it first, sir, if you please." 
 
 " You remember what you have learned in your Cate- 
 chism about it. Let us consider. — A sacrament, you 
 know, is ' an outward and visible sign of an inward and 
 spiritual grace, given unto us, ordained by Christ himself, 
 as a means whereby we receive the same, and a pledge to 
 assure us thereof.' Now the Lord has ordained bread and 
 wine in the holy supper, as the outward mark, which we 
 behold with our eyes. It is a sign, a token, a seal of his 
 love, grace, and blessing, which he promises to, and be- 
 stows on, all who receive it, rightly believing on his name 
 and work. He, in this manner, preserves amongst us a 
 ' continual remembrance of his death, and of the benefits 
 which we receive thereby.' " 
 
 " What do you believe respecting the death of Christ, 
 Jenny ?" 
 
 " That because he died, sir, we live." 
 
 " What life do we live thereby ?" 
 
 " The life of grace and mercy now, and the life of glory 
 and happiness hereafter : is it not, sir ?" 
 
 " Yes, assuredly : this is the fruit of the d^ath of 
 Christ : and thus he ' opened the kingdom of heaven to 
 all believers.' As bread and wine strengthen Eind refresh
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 199 
 
 your poor weak fainting body in this very sickness, so 
 does the blessing of his body and blood strengthen and re- 
 fresh the Gouls of all that repose their faith, hope, and af- 
 fections on Him who loved us and gave himself for us." 
 
 Tears ran down her cheeks, as she said, 
 
 " O ! what a Saviour ! — O ! what a sinner ! — How kind 
 — how good ! — And is this for me V 
 
 " Fear not, dear child : He that has made you to love 
 him thus, loves you too well to deny you. He will in no 
 wise cast out any that come to him." 
 
 " Sir," said the girl, " I can never think about Jesus 
 and his love to sinners, without wondering how it can be. 
 I deserve nothing but his anger on account of my sins. 
 Why then does he love me ? — My heart is evil. Why 
 then does he love me ] — I continually forget all his good- 
 ness. Why then does he love me 1 — I neither pray to 
 liim, nor thank him, nor do any thing as I ought to do. 
 Why then such love to me !" 
 
 " How plain it is, that all is mercy from first to last ! 
 and that sweetens the blessing, my child. Are you not 
 willing to give Christ all the honor of your salvation, and 
 to take all the blame of your sins on your own self?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, sir, I am. My hymn says, 
 
 ' Blest be the Lord that sent his Son, 
 
 To take our flesh and blood ; 
 
 He for our lives gave iij) his own, 
 
 To make our peace with God 
 
 ' He honor'd all his Father's laws, 
 
 Which we have disobey'd ; 
 
 He bore our sins upon the cross, 
 
 And our full ransom paid." 
 
 ♦' 1 am glad you remember your hynnis no wel], Jeiiuv."
 
 200 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 " Sir, you don't know what pleasure they give me. I 
 am very glad you gave me that little book of Hymns for 
 Children." 
 
 A severe fit of coughing interrupted her speech for a 
 while. The woman held her head. It was distressing to 
 observe her struggle for breath, and almost, as it v/ere, 
 for life. 
 
 "Poor dear I" said the woman, "I wish I could help 
 thee, and ease thy pains : but they will not last for ever." 
 
 " God helps me," said the girl, recovering her breath : 
 " God helps me ; he will carry me through. Sir, you look 
 frightened — I am not afraid — this is nothing — I am better 
 now. Thank you, dame, thank you. I am very trouble- 
 some ; but the Lord will bless you for this and all your 
 kindness to me : yes, sir, and yours too. Now talk to me 
 again about the sacrament." 
 
 " What is required, Jenny, of them who come to the 
 Lord's supper ] There are five things named in the Cate- 
 chism—do you remember what is the first ?" 
 
 She paused, and then said, with a solemn and intelligent 
 look, — 
 
 " To examine themselves whether they repent them 
 truly of their former sins." 
 
 "I hope and think that you know what this means, 
 Jenny : the Lord has given you the spirit of repentance." 
 
 " No one knows, sir, what the thoughts of past sin have 
 been to mc. Yes, the Lord knows, and that is enough : 
 and I hope he forgives me for Christ's sake. His blood 
 cleanseth from all sin. Sir, I sometimes think of my sins 
 till I tremble, and it makes me cry to think that I have 
 offended such a God : and then he comforts me again with 
 sweet thoughts about Christ."
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 9QS' 
 
 " It is wel], my child — be it so. The next thing men- 
 tioned in that article of your Catechism, what is it ]" 
 
 " Steadfastly purposing to lead a new life." 
 
 " And v/hat do you think of that?" 
 
 " My life, sir, will be a short one ; and I wish it had 
 been a better one. But from my heart I desire that it 
 may be a new one, for the time to come. I want to forsake 
 all my evil ways and thoughts, and evil words, and evil 
 companions ; and to do what God bids me, and what you 
 tell me is right, sir, and what I read of in my Bible. But 
 I am afraid I do not, ray heart is so full of sin. However, 
 sir, I pray to God to help me. My days will be few ; but 
 I wish they may be spent to the glory of God." 
 
 " The blessing of the Lord be upon you, Jane ; so that, 
 whether you live, you may live to the Lord : or whether 
 you die, you may die unto the Lord ; and that, living or 
 '^ying, you may be the Lord's. — What is the next thing 
 mentioned?" 
 
 " To have a lively faith in God's mercy through Christ, 
 sir." 
 
 " Do you believe that God is merciful to you in the 
 pardon of your sins?" 
 
 " I do, sir," said the child, earnestly. 
 
 " And if he pardons you, is it for your own sake, Jenny ?" 
 
 " No, sir, no ; it is for Christ's sake, for my Saviour Je- 
 sus Christ's sake, and that only — Christ is all." 
 
 " Can you trust him?" 
 
 " Sir, I must not mistrust him ; nor would I if I might." 
 
 " Right, child ; he is worthy of all your trust." 
 
 " And then, sir, I am to have a thankful remembrance 
 of his death. I can never think of his dying, but I think 
 also what a poor unworthy creature I am ; and yet he is
 
 202 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 SO good to me. I wish I could thank him. — Sir, I have 
 been reading about his death. How could the people do 
 as they did to him ? — but it was all for our salvation. And 
 the thief on the cross — that is beautiful. I hope he will 
 remember me too, and that I shall always remember him 
 and his death most thankfully." 
 
 " And lastly, Jenny, are you in charity with all men ] 
 Do you forgive all that have offended you ? Do you bear 
 ill-will in your heart to anybody ]" 
 
 " Dear sir ! no ; how can I ? If God is good to me, if 
 he forgives me, how can I help forgiving others '? There 
 is not a person in all the world, I think, sir, that I do not 
 wish well to for Christ's sake, and that from the bottom 
 of my heart ?" 
 
 " How do you feel towards those bold, wanton, ill-tem- 
 pered girls at the next door, who jeer and mock you so 
 about your religion?" 
 
 " Sir, the worst thing I wish them is, that God may give 
 them grace to repent ; that he may change their hearts, 
 and pardon all their wicked ways and words. May he 
 forgive them as I do with all my soul !" 
 
 She ceased — I wished to ask no more. My heart was 
 full. " Can this be the religion of a child ?" thought I ; 
 "O that we were all'children I'.ke her !" 
 
 " Reach me that prayer-book, and the cup and plate. 
 My dear friends, I will now, with God's blessing, partake 
 with you in the holy communion of our Lord's body and 
 blood." 
 
 The time was sweet and solemn. I went through the 
 sacramental service. 
 
 The countenance and manner of the child evinced pow- 
 erful feelings. Tears mingled with smiles , resignation
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 203 
 
 brightened by hope ; humility animated by faith ; child- 
 like modesty adorned with the understanding of a riper 
 age ; gratitude, peace, devotion, patience, — all these were 
 visible. I thought I distinctly saw theni all — and did / 
 alone see them 1 Is it too much to say that other created 
 beings, whom I could not behold with my natural eyes, 
 were witnesses of the scene 1 
 
 ]f ministering angels do ascend and descend with glad 
 tidings between earth and heaven, I think they did so then. 
 
 When I had concluded the service, I said, 
 
 " Now, my dear Jane, you are indeed become a sister in 
 the church of Christ. May his Spirit and blessing rest 
 upon you, — strengthen and refresh you !" 
 
 " My mercies are great, very great, sir ; greater than I 
 can express — I thank you for this favor — I thought I was 
 too young — it seemed too much for me to think of : but I 
 am now sure the Lord is good to me, and I hope I have 
 lone right." 
 
 " Yes, Jenny ; and I trust you are both outwardly and 
 inwardly sealed by the Holy Ghost to the day of redemp- 
 tion." 
 
 " Sir, I shall never forget this day." 
 
 " Neither, I think, shall I." 
 
 " Nor I," said the good old woman : " sure the Lord has 
 been in the midst of us three to-day, while we have been 
 gathered together in his name." 
 
 " Sir," said the child, " I wish you could speak to my 
 mother, when you come again. But she keeps out of your 
 sight. I am so grieved about her soul, and I am afraid 
 she cares nothing at all about it herself." 
 
 " I hope I shall have an opportunity the next time I 
 come. Farewell, my child."
 
 204 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 " Good-by, sir, and I thank you for all your kindness 
 to me." 
 
 "Surely," I thought within myself, as I left the cottage, 
 " this young bud of grace will bloom beauteously in Para- 
 dise. The Lord transplant her thither in his own good 
 time ! Yet, if it be his will, may she live a little longer, 
 that I may further profit by her conversation and example." 
 
 Possibly, some who peruse these simple records ot 
 poor little Jane, may wish the same. If it be so, we will 
 visit her again before she departs hence, and is no more 
 seen. 
 
 PART V. 
 
 Jane was hastening fast to her dissolution. She still, 
 however, preserved sufficient strength" to converse with 
 much satisfaction to herself and those who visited her. 
 Such as could truly estimate the value of her. spiritual 
 state of mind were but few ; yet the most careless could 
 not help being struck with her affectionate seriousness, 
 her knowledge of the Scriptures, and her happy applica- 
 tion of them to her own case. 
 
 " The holy spark divine," 
 
 which regenerating grace had implanted in her life, had 
 kindled into a flame which warmed and animated the be- 
 holder. To some, I am persuaded, her example and con- 
 versation were made a blessing. Memory reflects with
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 205 
 
 gratitude, whilst I write, on the profit and consolation 
 which I individually derived from her society. Nor I 
 alone. The last day will, if I err not, disclose further 
 fruits, resulting from the love of God to this little child ; 
 and, through her, to others that saw her. And may not 
 hope indulge the prospect, that this simple memorial of 
 her history shall be as one arrow drawn from the quiver 
 of the Almighty to reach the hearts of the young and the 
 thoughtless ] Direct its course, O my God ! May the 
 eye that reads, and the ear that hears, the record of little 
 Jane, through the power of the Spirit of the Most Highest, 
 each become a witness for the truth as it is in Jesus ! 
 
 I remembered the tender solicitude of this dear child 
 for her mother. I well knew what an awful contrast the 
 dispositions and conduct of her parents exhibited, when 
 compared with her own. 
 
 I resolved to avail myself of the first opportunity I could 
 seize to speak to the mother in the child's presence. The 
 woman had latterly avoided me, conscious of deserving, 
 and fearful of receiving, reproof. The road by which I 
 usually approached the house, lay, for some little distance, 
 sufficiently in sight of its windows, to enable the woman 
 to retire out of the way before I arrived. There was, 
 however, another path, through fields at the back of the 
 village, which, owing to the situation of the ground, al- 
 lowed of an approach unperceived, till a visiter reached 
 the very cottage itself. 
 
 One morning, soon after the sacramental interview re- 
 lated in my last paper, I chose this road for my visit. It 
 was preferable to me on every account. The distance 
 was not quite half a mile from my house. The path was 
 retired. I hereby avoided the noise and interruption 
 18
 
 206 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 which even a village street will sometimes present to dis- 
 turb the calmness of interesting meditation. 
 
 As I passed through the churchyard, and cast my eye 
 on the memorable epitaph, "Soon," 1 thought within me, 
 " will my poor little Jane mingle her mouldering remains 
 with this dust, and sleep with her fathers ! Soon will the 
 youthful tongue, which now lisps Hosannas to the Son of 
 David, and delights my heart with the evidences of early 
 piety and grace, be silent in the earth ! Soon shall I be 
 called to commit her ' body to the ground, earth to earth, 
 ashes to ashes, dust to dust.' But O ! what a glorious 
 change ! Her spirit shall have then returned to God which 
 gave it. Her soul will be joining the hallelujahs of Para- 
 dise, while we sing her requiem at the grave. And her 
 very dust shall here wait, ' in sure and certain hope of a 
 joyful resurrection from the dead.' " 
 
 I went through the fields without meeting a single in- 
 dividual. I enjoyed the retirement of my solitary walk : 
 various surrounding objects contributed to excite useful 
 meditation, connected with the great subjects of time and 
 eternity. Here and there a drooping flower reminded me 
 of the fleeting nature of mortal life. Sometimes a shady 
 spot taught me to look to Him who is "a shadow in the 
 day-time from the heat, and for a place of refuge, and for 
 a covert from storm and from rain." If a worm crept 
 across ray path, I saw an emblem of myself as I am now ; 
 and the winged insects, fluttering in the sunbeams, led 
 me comparatively to reflect on what I hoped to be liere- 
 after. 
 
 The capacious mansion of a rich neighbor appeared on 
 the right hand, as I walked ; on my left were the cottages 
 of the poor. The church spire pointing to heaven a little
 
 I 
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. ' 207 
 
 beyond, seemed to say to both the rich and the poor, 
 " Set your affections on things above, not on things on the 
 earth." 
 
 All these objects afforded me useful meditation ; and all 
 obtained an increased value, as such, because they lay in 
 my road to the house of little Jane. 
 
 1 was now arrived at the stile nearly adjoining her 
 dwelling. The upper window was open, and I soon dis- 
 tinguished the sound of voices : I was glad to hear that 
 of the mother. I entered the house-door unperceived by 
 those above stairs, and sat down below, not wishing as yet 
 to interrupt a conversation which quickly caught my ear. 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! I have not long to live. My time 
 will be very short. But I must, indeed I must, say some- 
 thing for your sake, before I die. O mother ! you have a 
 soul — you have a soul ; and what will become of it when 
 you die ?" O my mother ! I am so uneasy about your 
 soul — " 
 
 "O dear! I shall lose my child — she will die — and 
 what shall I do when you are gone, my Jenny?" She 
 sobbed aloud. 
 
 " Mother, think about your soul. Have not you ne- 
 glected that r' 
 
 " Yes, I have been a wicked creature, and hated all that 
 was good. What can I do?" 
 
 " Mother, you must pray to God to pardon you for 
 Christ's sake. You must pray." 
 
 " Jenny, my child, I cannot pray ; I never did pray in 
 all my life. I am too wicked to pray." 
 
 " Mother, I have been wanting to'speak to you a long 
 time. But I was afraid to do it. You did not like me to 
 say any thing about religion, and I did not know how to
 
 208 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 begin. But indeed, mother, I must speak now, or it may 
 
 be too late. I wish Mr. was here, for he could talk 
 
 to you better than I can. But perhaps you will think of 
 what I say, poor as it is, when I am dead. I am but a 
 young child, and not fit to speak about such things to any- 
 body. But, mother, you belong to me, and I cannot bear 
 to think of your perishing for ever. My Lord and Saviour 
 has shown me my own sin and corruptions : he loved me 
 and gave himself for me : he died and he rose again : I 
 want to praise him for it for ever and ever. I hope I shall 
 see him in heaven ; but I want to see you there too, 
 mother. Do, pray do, leave off swearing and other bad 
 ways : go to church, and hear our minister speak about 
 Jesus Christ, and what he has done for wicked sinners. 
 He wishes well to souls. He taught me the way, and he 
 will teach you, mother. Why did you always go out of 
 the house when you knew he was coming? Do not be 
 angry with me, mother ; I only speak for your good. I 
 was once as careless as you are about the things of God. 
 But I have seen my error. I was in the broad road lead- 
 ing to destruction, like many other children in the parish; 
 and the Lord saw me and had mercy upon me." 
 
 "Yes, my child, you was always a good girl, and minded 
 your book." 
 
 " No, mother, no ; not always. I cared nothing about 
 goodness, nor my Bible, till the minister came and sent 
 for us, as you know, on Saturday afternoons. Don't you 
 remember, mother, that at first you did not like me to go, 
 and said you would have no such godly pious doings about 
 your house ; and that I had better play about the streets 
 and fields than be laughed at and made game of for pre- 
 tending to be so good ? Ah, mother, you did not know
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 209 
 
 what I went for, and what God designed for me and my 
 poor sinful soul. But, thank God, I did go, and there 
 learned the way of salvation. Mother, I wish you had 
 learned too." 
 
 As I listened to this affecting conversation, it appeared 
 to me, from the tone and manner of the mother's voice, 
 that she was more under the influence of temporary grief, 
 on account of her child's extreme illness, than sincere 
 sorrow from any real sense of her sins. I however hoped 
 the best, and rejoiced to hear such weighty and important 
 exhortation dropping from her daughter's lips. I felt that 
 present circumstances rendered it far more valuable than 
 my own could have been. 
 
 I have often, since that time, seen the wicked and care- 
 less much affected, while sitting by the dying bed of a 
 near relative : I have witnessed their temporary acknow- 
 ledg-Aients of sin, and heard their professions of amend- 
 ment. But after a short season, all has passed away like 
 the morning dew. The friend has been buried out of 
 sight. The world and its cares, the flesh and its sins, 
 have returned with new temptations, and the eloquence 
 of iniquity has prevailed over the voice of truth. "The 
 dog has returned to his vomit, and the sow to her wallow- 
 ing in the mire." 
 
 On the other hand, how frequently have the death-beds 
 of true believers been blessed to the eye-witness of the 
 triumphs of grace over sin, death, and hell ! Often has 
 the careless bystander received the first saving impression 
 of divine truth, whilst the dying Christian has experienced 
 and testified the supports of love and mercy, in the trying' 
 hour. At such seasons, faith wields a bright and burning 
 torch, which occasionally softens the hardest, and warms 
 18*
 
 210 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 the coldest heart. The expressions of that heavenly con- 
 solation and devout solicitude, which the Holy Spirit 
 vouchsafes to some, thus become the happy means of 
 grace and blessing for the conversion and edification of 
 others. 
 
 "He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit 
 saith unto the churches !" 
 
 At this moment the house-door opened, and a younger 
 child, a brother of Jane's, came in. The mother asked 
 from above who it was : the boy replied, and, without fur- 
 ther inquiry, she remained in the chamber. I beckoned 
 to the lad to sit down quietly ; and thus it still remained 
 unknown that I was below. 
 
 "Mother," continued Jane, "that is my brother, and 
 will soon be your only remaining child. Do, pray, en- 
 courage him to follow good ways. Send him to Mr. , 
 
 and he will be kind to him, as he has been to me. 
 He is a wild boy, but I hope he will be brought to think 
 about his soul in time. Those naughty wicked boys teach 
 him to swear and fight, and run after all manner of evil. 
 Lord, help him to fTee from the wrath to come !" 
 
 I made a sign to the boy to listen to what his sister said 
 concerning him. He seemed to hear with attention, and 
 a tear dropped down his cheek. 
 
 " Ay, Jenny, it is to be hoped he will, and that we all 
 shall likewise." 
 
 " Mother, then you must flee to Christ. Nothing you 
 can do will save you without that. You must repent and 
 turn from sin — without the grace of God you cannot do it ; 
 but seek, and you shall find it. Do, for your own sake, 
 and for my sake, and my little brother's sake." 
 
 The woman wept and sobbed without replying. I now
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 211 
 
 thought it time to appear, went to the bottom of the stairs, 
 and said, "May a friend come upT' 
 
 "Mercy on me !" said the mother, "there is Mr. ." 
 
 " Come in^ sir," said Jane ; " I am very glad you are 
 come nolo. Mother, set a chair." 
 
 The woman look confused. Jane smiled as I entered, 
 and welcomed me as usual. 
 
 " I hope I shall be forgiven, both by mother and 
 daughter, for having remained so long below stairs, during 
 the conversation which has just taken place. I came in 
 the hope of finding you together, as 1 have had a wish for 
 some time past to speak to you, Sarah, on the same sub- 
 jects, about which I am happy to say your daughter is so 
 anxious. You have long neglected these things, and I 
 wished to warn you of the danger of your state — but Jenny 
 has said all I could desire, and I now solemnly ask you, 
 whether you are not much affected by your poor child's 
 faithful conversation 'J You ought to have been her teacher 
 and instructor in the ways of righteousness ; whereas 
 now she has become yours. Happy, however, will it be 
 for you if you are wise, and consider your latter end, and 
 the things which belong to your peace, before they are 
 hidden from your eyes ! Look at your dying child, and 
 think of your other and only remaining one, and say whether 
 this sight does not call aloud upon you to hear and fear." 
 
 Jane's eyes were filled with tears whilst I spoke. The 
 woman hung her head down, but betrayed some emotions 
 of dislike at the plain dealing used towards her. 
 "My child Jenny," said I, "how are you to-day V 
 "Sir, I have been talking a good deal, and feel rather 
 faint and weary, but my mind has been very en?y and 
 happy since I last saw you. I am quite willing to die,
 
 212 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 when the Lord sees fit. I have no wish to live, except it 
 be to see my friends in a better way before I depart. Sir, 
 I used to be afraid to speak to them ; but I feel to-day as 
 if I could hold my peace no longer, and I must tell them 
 what the Lord has done for my soul, and what I feel for 
 theirs." 
 
 There was a firmness, I may say, a dignity, with which 
 this was uttered, that surprised me. The character of the 
 child seemed to be lost in that of the Christian : her natu- 
 ral timidity yielded to a holy assurance of manner, result- 
 ing from her own inward consolations, mingled with 
 spiritual desire for her mother's welfare. This pro- 
 duced a flush upon her otherwise pallid countenance, 
 whirh in no small degree added to her interesting ap- 
 pearance. The Bible lay open before her as she sat 
 up in the bed. With her right hand she enclosed her 
 mother's. 
 
 " Mother, this book you cannot read : you should there- 
 fore go constantly to church, that you may hear it ex- 
 plained. It is God's book, and tells us the way to 
 heaven ; I hope you will learn and mind it ; with God's 
 blessing it may yet save your soul. Do think of that, mo- 
 ther, pray do. 1 am soon going to die. Give this Bible 
 to my brother : and Will you be so kind, sir, as to instruct 
 him ] Mother, remember what I say, and this gentleman 
 is witness : there is no salvation for sinners like you and 
 me but in the blood of Christ ; he is able to save to the 
 uttermost ; he will save all that come to him ; he waits 
 to be gracious ; cast yourself upon his mercy. I wish — 
 I wish— I— I— I—" 
 
 She was quite overcome, and sunk away in a kind of 
 fainting fit.
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 213 
 
 Her mother observed, that she would now probably re- 
 main insensible for some time, before she recovered. 
 
 I improved this interval in a serious address to the 
 woman, and then prepared to take my departure, perceiv- 
 ing that Jane was too much exhausted for further conver- 
 sation at that time. 
 
 As I was leaving the room, the child said faintly, " Come 
 again soon, sir ; my time is very short." 
 
 I returned home by the same retired road which I had 
 before chosen. I silently meditated on the eminent proofs 
 of piety and faith which were just aflbrded me in the 
 scene I had witnessed. 
 
 Surely, I thought, this is an extraordinary child ! What 
 cannot grace accomplish ] Is it possible to doubt, after 
 this, who is the alone Author and Finisher of salvation ; 
 or from w1io7n cometh every good and perfect gift 1 How 
 rich and free is the mercy of Jehovah ! Hath not he 
 "chosen the weak things of the world to confound the 
 things which are mighty ] Let no flesh glory in his pre- 
 sence ; but he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord." 
 
 PART VL 
 
 The truth and excellence of the religion of Jesus Clirist 
 appears to be remarkably established by the union of simi- 
 larity with variety, in the effect which it produces on the 
 hearts and lives of true believers. In the grand and es- 
 sential features of Christian experience, the whole house-
 
 214 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 hold of God possess an universal sameness of character, a 
 family likeness, which distinguishes them from all the 
 v/orld besides ; yet, in numerous particulars, there also 
 exists a beautiful variety. 
 
 On the one hand, in the aged and the young, in the wise 
 and the unlearned, in the rich and the poor ; in those of 
 stronger and weaker degrees of mental capacity, in more 
 sanguine or more sedate dispositions ; and in a multitude 
 of otherwise varying circumstances, there is a striking 
 conformity of principles and feeling to Christ, and to each 
 other. Like the flowers of the field and the garden, they 
 are " all rooted and grounded" in the soil of the same 
 earth ; they are warmed by the same sun, refreshed by the 
 same air, and watered by the same dews. They each de- 
 rive nourishment, growth, and increase from the same life- 
 giving Source. x\s the flower puts forth its leaves and 
 petals, adorns the place which it inhabits with its beauty, 
 and possesses an internal system of qualities, w'hereby it 
 is enabled to bring forth its seed or fruit, in the appointed 
 season ; so does the Christian. 
 
 But, on the other hand, like the flowers also, some 
 Christians may be said to grow on the mountain tops, 
 some in valleys, some in the waters, and others in dry 
 ground. Different colors, forms, and sizes, distinguish 
 them from each other, and produce a diversity of charac- 
 ter and appearance, which affords a delightful variety, both 
 for the purposes of use and beauty. Yet is that variety 
 perfectly consistent with their essential unity of nature 
 in the vegetable kingdom, to which they all equally 
 belong. 
 
 In another particular they likewise resemble. They 
 both die a natural death. Tiio Lord ever preserves " a
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 215 
 
 seeo ) br^Tve him," from generation to generation ; for 
 as Oh' ^..fcapj^ears, another springs up to supply his place. 
 But " it js appointed unto all men once to die." — " Man 
 Cometh forth like b. flv.wc'*, and is cut down ; he fleeth as 
 a shadow, and cont-:nc;ei'i rot." — " All flesh is as grass, 
 and all the glcv ^i man as the flower of the grass. The 
 grass withereth, and the flovt.' tl.srcof falleth away." 
 
 In the midst of such diverbitj- of Christian characters 
 there is much to love and aaiiiho. I have selected the 
 case of little Jane, as one not undcsv. n hig of notice. 
 
 It is true, she was only a child— a vc/y poor child — but 
 a child saved by divine grace, enlightencu with the purest 
 knowledge, and adorned with unaflhcfed holiness, — she 
 was a child, humble, meek, and lowly. She " found grace 
 in the eyes of the Lord," while she W8S on earth ; and, I 
 doubt not, will be seen on his right hand at the last day. 
 As such, there is preciousness in the character, which will 
 account for my attempting once more to write concerning 
 her, and describe her last moments before she went to her 
 final rest. 
 
 At a very early hour on the morning of the following 
 day, I was awoke by the arrival of a messenger, bringing 
 an earnest request that I wouM immediately go to the 
 child, as her end appeared to be just approaching. 
 
 It was not yet day when I left my house to obey the 
 summons. The morning star shone conspicuously clear. 
 The moon cast a mild light over the prospect, but grad- 
 ually diminished in brightness as the eastern sky became 
 enlightened. The birds were beginning their songs, and 
 seemed ready to welcome the sun's approach. The dew 
 plentifully covered the fields, and hung suspended in drops 
 from the trees and hedges. A few early laborers appear-
 
 216 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 ed in the lanes, travelling towards the scene of t'neir daily 
 occupations. 
 
 All besides was still and calm. My mind, as I pro- 
 ceeded, was deeply exercised by thoughts concerning the 
 affecting events which I expected soon to witness. 
 
 The rays of the morning star were not so beautiful in 
 my sight, as the spiritual lustre of this young Christian's 
 character. " Her night was far spent ;" the morning of a 
 " better day was at hand." The sun of eternal blessed- 
 ness was ready to break upon her soul with rising glory. 
 Like the moon, which I saw above me, this child's exem- 
 plary deportment had gently cast a useful light over the 
 neighborhood where she dwelt. Like this moon, she had 
 for a season been permitted to shine amidst the surround- 
 ing darkness ; and her rays were also reflected from a lu- 
 minary, in whose native splendor hor own would quickly 
 be blended and lost. 
 
 The air was cool, but the breezes of the morning were 
 refreshing, and seemed to foretell the approach of a beau- 
 tiful day. Being accustomed, in my walks, to look for sub- 
 jects of improving thought and association, I found them 
 in every direction around me, as I hastened onward to the 
 house where Jane lay, waiting for a dismissal from her 
 earthly dwelling. 
 
 I felt that the twilight gravity of nature was, at that 
 hour, peculiarly appropriate to the circumstances of the 
 case : and the more so, because that twilight was signifi- 
 cantly adorned with the brilliant sparklings of the star on 
 one hand, and the clear pale lustre of the waning moon 
 on the other. 
 
 When I arrived at the house, I found no one below ; I 
 paused a few minutes, and lieard the girl's voice very
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 217 
 
 faintly saying, " Do you think he will come 1 I should be 
 80 glad — so very glad to see him before I die." 
 
 1 ascended the stairs — her father, mother, and brother, 
 together with the elderly woman before spoken of, were 
 in the chamber. Jane's countenance bore the marks of 
 speedy dissolution. Yet, although death was manifest in 
 the languid features, there was something more than ever 
 interesting in the whole of her external aspect. The mo- 
 ment she saw me, a renewed vigor beamed in her eye — 
 grateful affection sparkled in the dying face. 
 
 Although she had spoken just before I entered,, yet for 
 some time afterward she was silent, but never took her 
 eyes off me. There was animation in her look — there was 
 more — something like a foretaste of heaven seemed to be 
 felt, and gave an inexpressible character of spiritual 
 beauty, even in death. 
 
 At length she said, " This is very kind, sir, — I am going 
 fast — I was afraid I should never see you again in this 
 world." 
 
 I said, "My child, are you resigned tO'die?" 
 
 " Quite." 
 
 "Where is your hope]" 
 
 She lifted up her finger, pointed' to heaven, and' then 
 directed the same downward to her own heart, saying suc- 
 cessively as she did so, " Christ there, and Christ liei'c.'* 
 
 These words, accompanied by the action, spoke her 
 meaning more solemnly than can easily be conceived. 
 
 A momentary spasm took place. — Looking towards her 
 weeping mother, she said, " I am very cold — but it is no 
 matter — it will soon be over "' 
 
 She closed her eyes for about a minute,, and, on opening 
 them again, said, " I wish, sir, when I am gpne, you would 
 1&
 
 218 THE YOUNG COTIAGER. 
 
 tell the other children of the parish, how good the Lord 
 has been to me, a poor sinner — tell them, that they who 
 •seek him early will find him — tell them, that the ways of 
 
 ■ Bin and ignorance are the ways to ruin and hell — and pray 
 tell them, sir, from me, that Christ is indeed the Way, the 
 Truth, and the Life — he will in no wise cast out any that 
 
 .come. — Tell them that I, a poor girl " 
 
 She was quite exhausted, and sank for a while into a 
 Ttorpid state, from which, however, she recovered gradually, 
 uttering these expressions : " Where am I ? — I thought I 
 •was goi-ng — Lord, save me !" 
 
 " My dear child, you will soon be for ever in his arms, 
 who is now guiding you by his rod and staff through the 
 'Valley of the shadow of death." 
 
 "I believe so, indeed I do," said she; "I long to be 
 ' with him ! — O how good, how great, how merciful ! — Jesus, 
 save me, help me through this last trial." 
 
 She then gave one hand to her father, the other to her 
 
 ■ mother, and said, " God bless you, God bless you — seek 
 the Lord, — think ^f me, when I am gone — it may be for 
 your good — remember your souls — O! for Christ's sake 
 remember your souls — then all may be well — ^you cannot 
 
 ' know what I have felt for both of you — Lord, pardon and 
 
 • save my dear father and mother !" 
 
 She then took hold of her brother's hand, saying, 
 "Thomas, I beg you to leave off your bad ways — read the 
 Bible— I give you mine — I have found it a precious book. 
 Do you not remember our little brother, who died some 
 years since? — he was praying to the last moment of his 
 life. Learn to pray, while you are in health, and you will 
 find the comfort and power of it when you come to die ; 
 but, fir£t of all, pray for a nev/ heart — without it you never
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 219 
 
 wil\ see God in heaven — your present ways lead to misery 
 and ruin — may the Lord turn your heart to love and fol- 
 low him !" 
 
 To the other woman she said, " I thank you, Dame 
 
 K , for all your kindness, since I have been ill — you 
 
 have been a Christian friend to me, and I hope the Lord 
 will remember you for it, according to his rich mercy : — 
 you and I have many a time talked together about death ; 
 and though I am the youngest, he calls me first to pass 
 through it : but, blessed be his name, I am not terrified. 
 I once thought I never could die without fear ; but indeed 
 I feel quite happy, now it is come ; and so will you, if you 
 trust him — he is the God both of the old and the young." 
 
 " Ah, my child !" said the woman, " I wish I was as fit to 
 die as you are ; but I fear that will never be — my sins 
 have been many, very many." 
 
 " Christ's blood cleansetli from all sin," said the child. 
 
 At this moment, instead of growing weaker, through 
 the fatigue of so much speaking, she seemed to gather 
 fresh strength. She turned to me with a look of surpris- 
 ing earnestness and animation, saying, 
 
 " You, sir, have been my best friend on earth — you have 
 taught me the way to heaven, and I love and thank you 
 for it — you have borne with my weakiiess and my igno- 
 rance — ^you have spoken to me of the love of Christ, and 
 he has made me to feel it in my heart — I shall see him 
 face to face — he will never leave me nor forsake me — 
 he is the same, and changes not. Dear sir, God bless 
 you." 
 
 The child suddenly rose up, with an unexpected exer- 
 tion, threw her livid, wasted arms around me, as I sat on 
 the bedside, laid her head on my shoulder, and said dis-
 
 220 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 tinctly, " God bless and reward you — give thanks for me 
 to Him — my soul is saved — Christ is every thing- to me. 
 Sir, we shall meet in heaven, shall we not ? — O yes, yes 
 — ^then all will be peace — peace — peace — " 
 
 She sank back on the bed, and spoke no more — fetched 
 a deep sigh — smiled — and died. 
 
 At this affecting moment the rays of the morning sun 
 darted into the room, and filled my imagination with the 
 significant emblem of " the tender mercy of God, whereby 
 the day-spring from on high hath visited us, to give light 
 to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to 
 guide our feet into the way of peace." 
 
 It was a beam of light, that seemed at once to describe 
 the glorious change which her soul had now alread}^ ex- 
 perienced ; and, at the same time, to shed the promised 
 consolations of hope over the minds of those who witnessed 
 her departure. 
 
 This was an incident obviously arising from a natural 
 cause ; but one which irresistibly connected itself with the 
 .spiritual circumstances of the case. 
 
 For some time I remained silently gazing on the breath- 
 less corpse, and could hardly persuade myself that Jane 
 was indeed no longer there. 
 
 As 1 returned homeward, 1 found it difficult to repress 
 the strong feelings of aflcction, which such a scene had 
 excited. Neither did I wish it. Religion, reason, and ex- 
 perience, rather bid us indulge, in due place and season, 
 those tender emotions which keep the heart alive to its 
 most valuable sensibilities. To check them serves but to 
 harden the mind, and close the avenues which lead to the 
 sources of our best principles of action. 
 
 Jesus himself 2oept over the foreseen sorrows of Jerusa-
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 221 
 
 lem. He ivept also at the grave of his friend Lazarus. 
 Such an example consecrates the tear of affection, while 
 it teaches us, " concerning them which are asleep, not to 
 sorrow, as those which have no hope." 
 
 I soon fell into meditation on the mysterious subject 
 of the flight of a soul from this world to that of departed 
 spirits. 
 
 " Swifter than an arrow from the bow, or than the rays 
 of light from the sun, has this child's spirit hastened, in 
 obedience to its summons from God, to appear in his im- 
 mediate presence. How solemn a truth is this for uni- 
 versal consideration ! But, ' washed in the blood of the 
 Lamb that was slain,' and happily made partaker of its 
 purifying efficacy, she meets her welcome at the throne 
 of God. She has nothing to fear from the frowns of divine 
 justice. Sin, death, and hell, are all vanquished through 
 the power of Him who hath made her more than conqueror. 
 He will himself present her to his Father, as one of the 
 purchased lambs of his flock — as one whom the Spirit of 
 God ' has sealed unto the day of redemption.' 
 
 " What a change for her ! from that poor tattered cham- 
 ber to the regions of Paradise ! from a bed of straw to the 
 bosom of Abraham ! from poverty, sickness, and pain, to 
 eternal riches, health, and joy ! from the condition of a 
 decayed weary pilgrim in this valley of tears, to that of a 
 happy traveller safely arrived at home, in the rest that re 
 raaineth to the people of God ! 
 
 " I have lost a young disciple, endeared to me by a truly 
 parental tie. Yet how can I complain of that as lost, 
 which God has found 1 Her willing and welcome voice no 
 longer seeks or imparts instruction here. But it is far 
 better employed. The angels, who rejoiced over her when 
 19*
 
 Z2SS THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 her soui tirst turned to God, who watched the process of 
 her short pilgrimage, and who have now carried her tri- 
 umphantly to the heavenly hills, have already taught her 
 to join 
 
 ' In holy song, their own immortal strains.' 
 Why then should I mourn 1 The whole prospect, as it 
 concerns her, is filled with joy and immortality, ' Death is 
 swallowed up in victory.' " 
 
 As I looked upon the dew-drops which rested on the 
 grass and hung from the branches of the trees, I observ- 
 ed that the sun's rays first filled them with beautiful and 
 varied colors ; then dried them up. and they were seen no 
 longer. 
 
 Thus it was with myself. The tears which I neither 
 would nor could restrain, when I first began thus to re- 
 flect on the image of the dying chamber of little Jane, 
 were speedily brightened by the vivid sunshine of hope 
 and confidence. They then gradually yielded to the in- 
 fluence of that divine principle which sJiall finally wipe 
 the tear from every eye, and banish all sorrow and sighing 
 for evermore. 
 
 On the fourth day from thence, Jane was buried. I had 
 never before committed a parishioner to the ground with 
 similar aftections. The attendants were not many, but I 
 was glad to perceive among them some of the children 
 who had been accustomed to receive my weekly private 
 instruction along with her. 
 
 I wished that the scene might usefully impress their 
 young hearts, and that God would bless it to their edifi- 
 cation. 
 
 As I stood at the head of the grave, during the service, 
 I connected past events, which had occurred in the church-
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 2'^ 
 
 yard, with the present. In this spot Jane first learned the 
 value of that Gospel which saved her soul. Not many 
 yards from her own burial-place, was the epitaph which 
 has already been described as the first means of affecting 
 her mind with serious and solemn conviction. It seemed 
 to stand at this moment as a peculiar witness for those 
 truths which its lines proclaimed to every passing reader. 
 Such an association of objects produced a powerful effect 
 on my thoughts. 
 
 The evening was serene — nothing occurred to interrupt 
 the quiet solemnity of the occasion. 
 
 " Peace" was the last word little Jane uttered, while 
 living ; and peace seemed to be inscribed on the farewell 
 scene of the grave, where she was laid. A grateful re- 
 membrance of that peace revives in my own mind, as I 
 write these memorials of it ; and O ! may that peace 
 which passeth all understanding, be in its most perfect 
 exercise, when I shall meet her again at the last day. 
 
 Attachment to the spot where this young Christian lay, 
 induced me to plant a yew-tree, close by the head of her 
 grave, adjoining the eastern wall of the church. I de- 
 signed it as an evergreen monument of one who was dear 
 to memory. The young plant appeared healthy for a 
 while, and promised by its outward vigor long to retain its 
 station. But it withered soon afterward, and like the 
 child whose grave it pointed out to notice, early faded 
 away and died. 
 
 The yew-tree proved a frail and short-lived monument. 
 But a more lasting one dwells in my own heart. And 
 perhaps this narrative may be permitted to transmit her 
 memory to other generations, when the hand and heart of 
 the writer shall be cold in the dust.
 
 294 
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 
 
 Perchance some, into whose hands these pages may fall, 
 will he led to cultivate their spiritual young plants with 
 increased hope of success, in so arduous an endeavor. 
 May the tender blossoms reward their care, and bring forth 
 early and acceptable fruit ! 
 
 Some, who have perhaps been accustomed to undervalue 
 the character of very youthful religion, may hereby see 
 that the Lord of grace and glory is not limited in the ex- 
 ercise of his power by age or circumstance. It sometimes 
 appears in the displays of God's love to sinners, as it does 
 in the manifestations of his works in the heavens, that the 
 least of the planets moves in the nearest course to the 
 sun ; and there enjoys the most powerful influence of his 
 light, heat, and attraction. 
 
 The story of this Young Cottager involves a clear evi- 
 dence of the freeness of the operations of divine grace on 
 the heart of man ; of the inseparable connection between 
 true faith and holiness of disposition ; and of the simpli- 
 city of character which a real love of Christ transfuses 
 into the soul. 
 
 How many of the household of faith, in every age, 
 
 " Alike unknown to fortune and to fame," 
 
 have journeyed and are now travelling to their " city of 
 habitation," through the paths of modest obscurity and al- 
 most unheeded piety ! It is one of the most interesting 
 employments of the Christian minister to search out these 
 spiritual lilies of the valley, whose beauty and fragrance 
 are nearly concealed in their shady retreats. To rear the 
 flower, to assist in unfolding its excellences, and bring 
 forth its fruit in due season, is a work that delightfully 
 recompenses the toil of the cultivator.
 
 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 225 
 
 While he is occupied in this grateful task of laboring 
 in his heavenly Master's garden, some blight, some tem- 
 pest may chance to take away a favorite young blossom, 
 in a premature stage of its growth. 
 
 H such a case should befall him, he will then, perhaps, 
 as I have often done, when standing in pensive recollec- 
 tion at little Jane's grave, make an application of these 
 lines, which are inscribed on a grave-stone erected in the 
 same churchyard, and say, 
 
 " This lovely bod, so young and fair, 
 Call'd hence by early doom, 
 Just came to show how sweet a flower 
 In Paradise would bloom." 
 
 THB feND OF THE TOXmO COTTAOXS.
 
 THE 
 
 COTTAGE CONVERSATION 
 
 As I journeyed late on a summer evening, meditating 
 on the beauties of the prospect around me, while they 
 gradually faded from my sight, through the approach of 
 darkness, it grew suddenly quite gloomy, and a black 
 cloud hanging over my head threatened a heavy shower 
 of rain. The big drops began to fall, and an open shed, 
 adjoining to a laborer's cottage, ojffering me a seasonable 
 shelter, I dismounted from my horse, and found it large 
 enough to protect him as well as myself. 
 
 The circumstance remmded me or me nappy privilege 
 of the believing smner, who finds a •* refuge from the 
 storm, and the blast of the terrible ones, m the love of his 
 Redeemer," which prepares him "a covert from storm and 
 from rain." I went in unperceived ; the door of the cot- 
 tage was half open, and I heard the voices of a poor man. 
 his wife, and some children within. 
 
 I was hesitating whether to go into the house and make 
 myself known, or to enjoy in solitude a meditation on the 
 foregoing comparison, which my situation had brought to 
 my mind, when these words, spoken in a calm and affec-
 
 228 THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 
 
 tionate tone, struck me with mingled pleasure and sur- 
 prise, and determined me not to interrupt the conversa- 
 tion : 
 
 " Indeed, wife, you are m the wrong. Riches would 
 never make us happier, so long as the Lord sees it good 
 that we should be poor." 
 
 " Well," replied the wife, " I can see no harm in 
 wishing for more money and better living, than we 
 have at present. Other people have risen in the world ; 
 and why should not we ] There's neighbor Sharp has 
 done well for nis lamuy, and, lor any tning I can see, 
 will be one of the richest farmers in the parish, if he 
 lives : and everybody knows, he was once as poor as 
 we are : while you and I are laboring and toihng from 
 morning to night, and can but just get enough to fill our 
 children's mouths, and keep ourselves coarsely clothed, 
 and hardly that." 
 
 " Wife," answered the man, " having food and raiment, 
 let us therewith be content. And, if it please God that 
 even these things should fall short, let us submit ourselves 
 to God in patience and well-doing, for he gives us more 
 than we deserve." 
 
 " There, now you are got to preaching again," said the 
 woman ; " you never- give me an answer, but you must 
 always go to your Bible to help you out." 
 
 "And where can I go so welH" replied the husband: 
 "is it not God's own word for our instruction 1" 
 
 " Well, that may be, but I don't like so much of it," an- 
 swered she. 
 
 " And I do not like so little of it, as I see and hear from 
 you," returned the man. 
 
 " Why that book has taught me, that it is an honor and
 
 THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 229 
 
 comfort to be a poor man ; and by the blessing of the 
 Spirit of God, I believe and feel it to be true. I have, 
 through mercy, always been enabled to get the bread of 
 honest industry, and so have you ; and though our chil- 
 dren feed upon brown bread, and we cannot afford to 
 buy them fine clothes, like some of our vain neighbors, 
 to pamper their pride with; yet, bless the Lord, they 
 are as healthy and clean as any in the parish. Why then 
 should you complain 1 Godliness with contentment is 
 great gain." 
 
 " An honor and a comfort to be a poor man, indeed ! 
 What nonsense you talk ! What sort of honor and com- 
 fort can that be 1 I am out of patience with you, man," 
 the wife sharply cried out. 
 
 " I can prove it," replied he. 
 
 " How f returned his partner, in no very pleasant tone 
 of voice. 
 
 " My dear," said the good man, " hear me quietly, and 
 I will tell you. 
 
 " I think it an honor, and I feel it a comfort, to be in that 
 very station of life which my Saviour Jesus Christ was in 
 before me. He did not come into the world as one that 
 was rich and great, but as a poor man, who had not where 
 to lay his head. I feel a blessing in my poverty, because 
 Jesus, like me, was poor. Had I been a rich man, per- 
 haps I should never have known nor loved him. ' For not 
 many mighty, nor many noble are called.' God's people 
 are chiefly found amongst the base things of the world, 
 and things which are despised. This makes my poverty 
 to be my comfort. 
 
 "Besides, hath not God chosen the poor of this world, 
 rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath 
 • 20
 
 230 THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 
 
 promiped to mem that love him 1 This thought makes 
 my poverty also to be my honor. 
 
 " Moreover, to the poor the gospel was and is preached, 
 and to my heart's delight I find it to be true, every Sun- 
 day of my life. And is it not plain, all the neighborhood 
 through, that while so many of our rich farmers, and 
 tradesmen, and squires, are quite careless or set their 
 faces against the ways of God, and are dead to every thing 
 that is gracious and holy ; a great number of the poorest 
 people are converted and live? I honor the rich for 
 their station, but I do not envy them for their posses- 
 sions. I cannot forget what Christ once said, 'How hard- 
 ly shall they that have riches, enter into the kingdom of 
 God.' 
 
 " Oh ! my dear wife, if you did but know how to set a 
 right value upon the precious promises which God has 
 made to the poor, how thankful should I be ! 
 
 " The expectation of the poor shall not perish. He de- 
 livereth the poor and needy from him that spoileth him. 
 He has prepared of his goodness for the poor. The poor 
 among men shall rejoice in the Holy One. For he became 
 poor, that we, through his poverty, might be rich ; not in 
 gold, but in grace. 
 
 " These promises cofnfort my soul, and would make me 
 happy, even if I were deprived of that which I now enjoy. 
 I can trust my Saviour for this world, as well as for the 
 next. He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him 
 up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us 
 all things 1 
 
 " The Lord of his mercy bless you, my dear Sarah, W'«-h 
 the grace of a contented mind !" 
 
 Here the gracious man stopped : and whether affected
 
 THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 231 
 
 by her husband's discourse, or by any other cause, I know- 
 not, but she made no reply. He then said, " Come, chil- 
 dren, it is our time for rest ; shut the door, and let us go 
 to prayer." 
 
 " Forgive me," said I, laying hold of the door, as the 
 child was obeying her father's orders, " if I ask leave to 
 make one in your family devotions, before I travel home- 
 ward. I have heard you, my friend, when you knew it 
 not, and bless God for the sermon which you have this 
 night preached to my heart." 
 
 The honest laborer blushed for a moment at this unex- 
 pected intrusion and declaration, but immediately said, 
 " Sir, you are welcome to a poor man's dwelling, if you 
 come in the name of the Lord." 
 
 I just looked around at the wife, who seemed to be 
 startled at my sudden appearance, and the six fine chil- 
 dren who sat near her, and then said, " You were going to 
 pray ; I must beg of you, without regarding me, to go on, 
 as if I were not here." 
 
 The man, whom I could not but love and reverence, 
 with a simple, unaffected, modest, and devout demeanor, 
 did as I requested him. His prayer was full of tender af- 
 fection and sincerity, expressed with great scriptural 
 propriety, and was in all respects such as became the 
 preacher of those sentiments which I had overheard him 
 deliver to his wife just before. 
 
 When he had finished, each of his children, accord- 
 ing to the good old patriarchal custom of better days, 
 kneeled down before him in turn to receive a father's 
 blessing. 
 
 It was now late, and the rain was over : I gave the poor 
 .nan my blessing, and received his in return. I wished
 
 •232 THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 
 
 them good night, and went onward to my own home, 
 reflecting with much self-abasement of heart, what an 
 honor and comfort it is, to be a poor man, rich in the 
 faith. 
 
 END OF THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION.
 
 VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY 
 
 I WENT a few months since to visit a parishioner, then 
 in the County Infirmary, within some miles of which I 
 reside, and was informed that in an adjoining ward there 
 lay a very good old man, confined by a mortification in his 
 foot, who would take particular satisfaction in any Chris- 
 tian conversation which my time would allow me to afford 
 him. 
 
 The nurse conducted me into a room, where I found 
 him alone on a bed. The character of his countenance 
 was venerable, cheerful, contented, and pious. His hoary 
 hairs proclaimed him to be aged, although the liveliness 
 in his eye was equal to that of the most vigorous youth. 
 
 " How are you, my friend?" I said. 
 
 " Very well, sir, very well. Never better in all my 
 life. Thank God for all his mercies :" replied the man, 
 with so cheerful a tone of voice, as at once surprised and 
 delighted me. 
 
 " Very well ] How sol I thought, from what I heard, 
 you were in much pain and weakness]" said I. 
 20*
 
 234 VISIT TO THE INFIRMAET. 
 
 " Yes, sir, that is true ; but I am very well for all that 
 For God is so good to my soul ; and he provides every 
 thing needful for my body. The people in the house are 
 very kind ; and friends come to see me, and talk and pray 
 with me. Sir, I want nothing, but more grace, to praise 
 the Lord for all his goodness." 
 
 " Why, my friend, you are an old pilgrim, and I am glad 
 to see that you have learned thankfulness, as you travel 
 through the wilderness." 
 
 "Thankfulness!" quickly returned he; "No, sir; I 
 never did thank the Lord, I never could thank him ; no, 
 nor I never shall thank him, as I ought, till I get to glory. 
 And then — O ! then — how I will thank him for what he 
 has done for me !" Tears of affection filled his eyes, as he 
 spoke. 
 
 "What a good Master you serve !" I added. 
 
 " Ay, sir, if the servant was but as good as the Master. 
 But here I am, a poor old sinner, deserving nothing, and 
 receiving every thing which I need. Sir, I want nothing, 
 but more grace to serve him better. I lie here on this 
 bed, and pray and sing by night and day. Sir, you must 
 let me sing you my hymn : I always begin it about four 
 o'clock in the morning, and it keeps my spirits alive all 
 the day through." 
 
 Without waiting for my reply, he raised himself up, and 
 in an aged and broken, but very affecting tone of voice, he 
 sang two or three verses, expressive of God's goodness to 
 him, and his own desire to live to God's glory. The sim- 
 plicity, serenity, and heartfelt consolation, with which this 
 venerable disciple went through it, gave a coloring to the 
 whole, and left an impression on my mind, which it would 
 be impossible to convey to the reader.
 
 VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY. 235 
 
 As soon as he had finished his hymn, he said, " Do not 
 be offended, sir, at ray boldness : you love the Lord, too, 
 I hope ; and then I am sure you won't be angry to hear 
 me praise him. — But now, sir, talk to me about Jesus 
 Christ. You are his minister, and he has sent you here 
 to-day to see a poor unworthy soul, that does not deserve 
 the least of his mercies. " Talk to me, sir, if you please, 
 about Jesus Christ." 
 
 " Neither you nor I are able to talk of him as we ought," 
 I answered : " and yet, if we were to hold our peace, the 
 very stones would cry out." 
 
 " Ay, and well they might, sir, cry shame, shame upon 
 us, if we refused to speak of his goodness," said the old 
 man. 
 
 " Jesus Christ," I continued, " is a sure refuge, and a 
 present help in time of trouble." 
 
 " That's right, sir ; so he is." 
 
 "Jesus Christ has taken care of you, and watched over 
 you all the days of your life ; and he will be your guide 
 and portion in death." 
 
 " That's right again, sir ; so he will." 
 
 " You have committed your soul into his keeping long 
 since, have you noti" 
 
 " Above forty years ago, sir ; above forty years ago, 
 (when I first used to hear good Mr. Venn and Mr. Ber- 
 ridge,) he came to seek and to save me, a vile sinner, who 
 deserved nothing but his wrath. I can never praise him 
 enough." 
 
 " Well, my friend, and this very Saviour Jesus Christ, 
 whom you love, and in whom you trust, lived for you, and 
 died for you ; he rose again for you, and has sanctified you 
 by his Holy Spirit, and now lives to make daily intercee-
 
 a36 VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY. 
 
 sion for you ; and having done all this, do you think he 
 will leave you to perish at last 1" 
 
 " No, sir," said the old man : " faithful is he that hath 
 promised, and will do it. Mine, alack, is a changing 
 heart ; but he changeth not. I believe that he hath laid 
 up a crown of glory for me ; and though the old enemy of 
 souls sometimes tells me I shan't have it, I believe in 
 Christ sooner than in him, and I trust I shall have it 
 at last." 
 
 " And do you not find by experience," I added, "that his 
 yoke is easy, and his burden light 1 His commandments 
 are not grievous, are they?" 
 
 " No, sir, no : it is a man's meat and drink, if he loves 
 the Lord, to do what he bids him." 
 
 " Where were you, before you came into this infirmary 3" 
 
 " In the parish workhouse of S ." 
 
 " Have you a wife ?" 
 
 " She died some years since, and got to her heavenly 
 home before me." 
 
 " Have you any children ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, I have two sons married, and settled in the 
 world with families. One of them has been here to see 
 me lately, and I hope he is in a good way for his own soul, 
 and brings up his children in the fear of God." 
 
 "Have you any worldly cares upon your mind ?" 
 
 " Not one, sir. I am come to this house, I plainly see, 
 to end my days ; for this mortification in my leg must, be- 
 fore it be very long, bring me to the grave. And I am 
 quite willing, sir, to go or to wait the Lord's own time. 
 I want nothing, sir, but more grace to praise him." Which 
 last words he often repeated in the course of the conver- 
 BatioD
 
 VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY. ^7 
 
 " You have reason," I said, "to feel thankful that there 
 is such a house as this, for poor and sick people to be 
 brought to, for both food, lodging, and medicine." 
 
 " That I have, indeed, sir ; it is a house of mercies to 
 me, and I am ashamed to hear how unthankful many of the 
 patients seem to be for the benefits which the Lord pro- 
 vides for them here. But, poor creatures, they neither 
 know nor love him. The Lord have mercy upon them ; 
 and show them the right way. I should never have known 
 that good way, sir, if he had not taken compassion upon 
 me, when I had none upon myself." 
 
 Tears ran down his aged cheeks as he spoke these last 
 words. — " Here," thought I, " is a poor man that is very 
 rich, and a weak man that is very strong." 
 
 At this moment the nurse brought in his dinner. 
 
 " There, sir, you see, more and more mercies ! The 
 Lord takes care of me, and sends me plenty of food for this 
 poor old worn-out body." 
 
 "And yet," said I, "that poor old worn-out body will 
 one day be renewed and become a glorified body, and 
 live along with your soul in the presence of God for 
 ever." 
 
 " That's right, sir," said the good old man, " so it will : 
 'though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my 
 flesh shall I see God.' But come, sir," seeing me look at 
 my watch, " you must epeak a word to your Master, if you 
 please, as well as for him. I will put down my dinner, 
 while you pray with me." 
 
 I did so, the man often adding his confirmation of what 
 I offered up, by voice, gesture, and countenance, in a man- 
 ner highly expressive of the agreement of his heart with 
 the language of the prayer.
 
 238 VISIT TO THE ISTTRMARY. 
 
 Having ended, he said, " God be with you, sir, and blesb 
 your labors to many poor souls : I hope you will come to 
 see me again, if my life be spared. I am so glad to see 
 those who will talk to me about Jesus Christ, and his 
 precious salvation." 
 
 I replied, " May the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, 
 who carried them through the days of their pilgrimage, 
 and brought them safe to a city, which hath foundations, 
 brmg you there too, and bless you all the remaining days 
 of your journey till you get home. I am going to see 
 several serious friends this evening, who would be glad, I 
 know, to receive a message from one who has had so muri* 
 experience of a Saviour's mercies. What shall I say tc 
 lAem V 
 
 " Tell them, sir, with my Christian love and respects, 
 that you have been to see a poor dying old man, who wants 
 nothing at all, in this world, but more grace to praise thj 
 Lord with." 
 
 So ended our fir«t interview. I could not help reflect- 
 ing, as I returned homeward, that as the object of my 
 journey to the infirmary had been to carry instruction and 
 consolation myself to the poor and the sick ; so the poor 
 and the sick were made instrumental to the conveying of 
 both instruction and consolation to my own heart in a very 
 superior degree. 
 
 I saw him four or five times afterward, and always found 
 him in the same happy, patient, thankful, and edifying 
 state of mind and conversation. The last time I was with 
 hina, be said : " Sir, I long to be at my heavenly home, 
 bisf 1 am willing to remain a traveller, as long as my Lord 
 &9% Haster sees good."
 
 VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY. 239 
 
 He died* not long after my last sight of him, in the 
 steadfast assurance of faith, and with a full hope of im 
 mortality." 
 
 * The foregoing conversation took place on September 22, 1808, and is Mtk 
 fully related. 
 J. S., rlie good old man who died in the infirmary, in December, 1806.
 
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